In Search of Ashes
by RuthlessNate
Summary: Nine months after the events of Nemesis, Picard, Geordi, Worf, and the new crew members of the USS EnterpriseE find themselves on a mission that unravels the loose ends of the events of the Shinzon occupation. This story will not be finished.
1. Prologue

**Author's Note:** This story takes place nine months after the events of Nemesis. The ideas for characters and situations come heavily from various drafts of the Nemesis script, by John Logan. Martin Madden (Madden appears in one of the deleted scenes on the Nemesis DVD, in fact, as portrayed by Steven Culp), the idea of an Andorian operations officer, Worf being reassigned to the _Enterprise_, Beverly going to Starfleet Medical and Geordi's relationship with Leah Brahms are all derived from Logan's script. The ideas on Andorian culture are derived from Heather Jarman's "Paradigm" from Worlds of Deep Space Nine, Volume One. The characters Lukiana Laurence, Clint Neilson and David Reeves are all original to this story, however. I thank you for taking the time to read my story.

_**Star Trek: The Next Generation**_

_**In Search of Ashes**_

**Prologue**

The old being's mind was arousing in the new being. Various neural pathways rerouted and reconnected as floods of memories and emotions filled the head of the new being. Thoughts spread like wildfire through his mind. Creeping like tendrils from a mythic creature. Except this wasn't something for the words of legend or text of literature. The old being did however _feel_ like he was in one of the literatures that the old being had read. A passage was brought to his mind.

_Deep, into that darkness, peering..._

_Long I stood there..._

_Wondering..._

_Fearing..._

_Doubting..._

But unlike the work of literature, the feelings inside the new being were very real. Not fiction. Not fantasy. It was truth. It was fact. The new being didn't exactly know how he was able to apprehend something from the old being. It just seemed natural. A seasoned mind was coming into a body that had seen no weathering. The old being was manifesting itself into the new. Inching its way into the very soul of the new. In time, the new being would be completely gone. But for now, the new being struggled. Unable to grasp exactly what was happening.

They were one in the same, the new and the old beings, but in their own ways, very different. In their physical forms, they were the same. But the old was intelligent and wise. The new, however, was unaware, and uncertain.

The body of the old being was still in existence, but had left to the new being a copy of his mind for the new being to assimilate. The old had claimed he wanted to help the new. He had claimed that his own experiences would help the new overcome his own unaware and uncertain mind.

In a way, the new being wanted nothing but to surrender to the outside force in his mind take over and help him. In another way, fear of the old came about. Unknowing of what the old being's mind would do to him, the new could only tremble inside. Yet in a third way, he hated the old being. The invasion of his mind had been against the very thoughts that had been put into his mind since coming into existence

And it occurred to him why he thought of the passage. _Wondering_: wanting to surrender to the force. _Fearing_: unknowing of things to come. _Doubting_: the uncertainty at his fate from the old being.

A torrent of thoughts raged through to him.

Memories. Recent memories. Faces. A commanding bald man with a shiny head holding something in his hand. He saw the bald man say something about leaving friends being a part of life. A liquid. A taste.

A tall bearded man sitting next to a pretty lady in a white dress. They were both smiling broadly. They kissed each other. He realized he was at a table with them.

A dark-skinned man with strange eyes. A feeling of friendship welled inside of him.

Another dark-skinned man with a bumpy head and sharp teeth.

A woman with red hair and pale skin.

A wise, dark-skinned woman with a big hat and a smile.

A young man next to the red haired woman.

_Never saw the sun..._

More memories. A little boy asking "Don't you ever get tired?"

A big, invisible thing in the water.

_A British tar is a soaring soul..._

It was too much for the new being to comprehend.

v v

Elsewhere in the universe, a different set of new and old beings fought in a similar battle. This was a physical battle, however, and not in the mind. This new being was intelligent, commanding, and battle-hardened. The new being had actually been in existence for quite a while compared to some. Nearly twenty-five years of pain and suffering brought nothing but vengeance and death to the mind of the new being. All he wanted was the very blood of the new being to ensure his own survival.

The old being in this set of new and old was also similar to the new being. He was also intelligent, commanding, and battle-hardened. But unlike the new, he was seeking peace, prosperity, and equality.

But the old being had his ways of dealing with the new being.

They had the same body, of course the new being's was obviously younger. But in his own way he was older. He was aged, but not in the same way. Veins were visible through his skin. Parts of his face were wrinkled. Breathing was hard. Thinking was harder. The new being was dying. And he wanted nothing more than to kill the old.

And the old wanted nothing more than to stop the new from destroying his friends. Everything he loved was in danger. He needed to protect it.

The new being attacked the old with a dagger, intent on killing. The old pulled out a rod and impaled the old.

And all things froze.

To see his own face dying. To see the life fade from himself. It was as if he had committed suicide in front of a demented mirror.

The new being reached for the old being's neck and the old could do nothing. It was as if a part of him was dying quicker than the rest. He knew that if he did not free himself from the grasp of the new being, he himself would die, and he would have done nothing to stop his friends from being killed.

But then the old being saw the old being from the first set of new and young. And he was saved, but at the cost of his friend, the other old being.

He then reappeared among friends, and could do nothing.

Sadness. Fear. Anger. Sorrow. Grief. Paternal love. All these emotions took hold at once. He had lost a friend.

One of the old beings was gone, and one of the new beings was gone. Two different sets of mirror images. But these were not exact mirrors. One set was a mirror where adulthood was converted to adolescence. The other where righteousness was converted to rage. Each ending in death. Each ending in confusion.

The surviving old being talked to the surviving new being. He talked of how the dead old being was a good person and was a friend. But the surviving new being didn't understand. He couldn't. The mind of the dead old being was still encroaching on him. Still rerouting the way he thought. Much like detours of antiquity, the road could temporarily not be used. Until he was done taking in the mind that he had surrendered to, he would not be able to do much. Due to the primitive nature of the surviving new being's mind, he was unsure when he would achieve a greater mind through the help of the dead old being's mind. He wished it would be soon, but for all he knew it could have been decades before he became fully aware.

Only one thing came to mind.

"Never saw the sun...Never saw the sun..." the new being began.

The surviving old being stopped and looked at him. "Shining so bright," he quietly sang.

"Shining so bright," repeated the new being.

The old being could feel nothing but hope after hearing those phrases.


	2. Chapter One

**Chapter One**

_Captain's Log: Stardate 57056.9: The Enterprise has just left space dock after forgoing repairs from our battle with the Reman Warbird Scimitar. It has been nearly three months since that battle which ended in the death of a dear friend. Will and Deanna officially departed the ship today and Captain Riker assumed command aboard the Titan. I will dearly miss having the two of them aboard. My new first officer, Commander Martin Madden, came aboard today as well. I am unsure what to think of him as of yet, but I am sure he is a fine officer._

v v

_Captain's Log: Stardate_ _57076.6: Dr. Beverly Crusher disembarked today when we made a stop at Earth. She is taking up command at Starfleet Medical. We had to stop to take on personnel, many fresh from the Academy. It's starting to feel to me as though I was in command of a training vessel and not the flagship of the United Federation of Planets._

v v

_Captain's Log; Stardate 57078.4: After giving the new crew members time to examine the ship for themselves, I called a senior staff meeting, where I met an almost entirely new batch of crew. The only familiar faces were Geordi La Forge and Worf, whom I am pleased to announce, has been reassigned to the _Enterprise_. He himself admitted he did not like his posting as Federation Ambassador to the Klingon Empire and said it was "unworthy of a warrior". Among my new senior staff is a new counselor, Chief Medical Officer, helmsman, and operations officer. _

_Our new counselor, Lukiana Laurence, is a full blood Betazoid, but is married to a human man who resides on Earth, hence the surname. Of course, it is odd because in Betazoid culture, the male takes the female's name. But back on the subject, she has a greater amount of telepathic abilities than Deanna Troi, and has been very useful, but she does not have the understanding of the crew that Deanna had. But I'm sure she'll get to know us all in time._

_The new CMO is Doctor Clint Neilson. He is a highly trained and experienced man, and I am very confident in him. He has also been known to be a good people person, often talking with crewmembers about their personal problems while they come in for routine check ups. It's almost as if we have two counselors._

_Our new helmsman is a fresh, young lieutenant named David Reeves. He'd had a few problems with security while at the Academy, but it's my hope that his exemplary service record made him deserve this posting. David is a damn fine helmsman; I must at least give him that much credit. Apparently he's also a very handy engineer, as well, being an avid collector of antique vehicles. _

_We have also gained a new operations officer, an Andorian _chen_, Lieutenant Junior Grade Therashon ch'Serikth. This is his second posting onboard an actual starship, having previously served as a shuttle pilot on the Earth-Jupiter shuttle route and as an operations alternate onboard the _Montgomery_. He was, however, highly thought of by his commanding officers._

_I am sure my new crew will do a fine job handling the _Enterprise

v v

_Captain's Log: Stardate 57539.3: It has been nearly nine months since the death of Data and, on a lesser note, Shinzon, aboard the Reman Warbird, _Scimitar_. Will and Deanna contacted me earlier today and assured me that everything was fine aboard the _Titan_. They were sent out three days ago to begin peace talks with the Romulans. Apparently Ambassador Spock is heading up the talks and they are going well due to the Romulans' newly found trust in the Federation. A new Senate is already in place and morale is high on both sides of the Neutral Zone. I have a feeling we are one step closer to the abolition of the centuries old Neutral Zone, which would bring a new degree of peace in the Alpha Quadrant. I, however, can feel a bit of suspicion towards the Romulan government. It would not be the first time that a new regime talking of peace is quickly overthrown by the military. I fear that a Romulan civil war may actually occur if the new Senate stays in power. _

_Of course, other than the various fears brought about by a newly ran government on Romulus the Quadrant is in peace. Even the Cardassians are quiet, but as of lately there have been more and more "incidents" involving the private ownership of Cardassian warships under renegade citizens. But these disputes are quickly handled because after the Dominion War, the Cardassians no longer have the resources or means to make any large attacks on the "Federation Aggressors". I am only reminded of the state of the Klingons after the moon known as Praxis exploded. That event eventually led to a lasting peace between the Klingon Empire and the Federation. And still, a majority of the Cardassian people favors the Federation, but as I stated before, a select few who were loyal to the Dominion still feel that they are at war. _

_I spoke to Beverley last night about her position as the head of Starfleet Medical. She was very enthusiastic about some of the new breakthroughs they've had recently, including finding a way of preventing certain recessive genetic diseases from being passed onto children, including Shelaft's syndrome, which ailed me as a child. She also complained a slight bit about Admiral McCoy's flirtatious attitude toward her. But, at least the one-hundred-fifty-two-year-old admiral is still alive. In fact, he is the oldest known human to have lived. Beverley also made a few comments towards the Voyager Emergency Medical Hologram. She never did like to use EMHs, but found that "The Doctor's" knowledge on fighting unknown diseases and foreign substances as valuable and he could not be wasted. She does, however, seem to miss serving as the Chief Medical Officer here onboard the _Enterprise

_It's also been reported to me by the Daystrom Institute that B-4 has shown no further signs of his "brother" Data's thoughts and memories. All he does is sing "Blue Skies". He is reported, however, to at least get a word or two further into the song every week or so._

_Commander Madden is proving himself to be a fine first officer. I still don't know what to think of him. He is a very by-the-book officer, much like a few other officers of my acquaintance. He still however, refuses to let me go on away missions. Lately I have been breaking the rules a bit and refusing to listen to him though. From what I can tell, he is a very gullible man, having called me Jean-Luc the first time he met me and then asking me if Captain Riker was "pulling his leg". He is a fresh face, as are a lot of the faces onboard this ship._

Captain Jean-Luc Picard of the Starship _Enterprise_ sighed, ever since the ordeal with Shinzon had ended; life had not been the same. He felt as though everything else around him was moving forward while he stayed in place, as if time stood still for him.

He felt as though he had done nothing since Data's death and the subsequent departure of his friends from the _Enterprise_.

Yes, he had made one successful first contact, helped a few wayward races write some treaties, and even started a new poker night with Geordi and Worf so they could all get acquainted with the new officers. Poker night, however, was not the same without the friendly bickering of Riker and Worf, Data's fascination with Riker's bluffs, and the knowledge that an empathic was sitting across the table from you. _Now it's not just an empathic, it's a telepath sitting across from you_, Picard laughed. Counselor Laurence, however, rarely appeared for poker, and neither did Commander Madden. And not only were there a telepathic player, but also a player who was practically empathic in the form of Lieutenant ch'Serikth. Andorian antennae were capable of picking up the pheromones of those around him, making it easier to detect the moods of those around him.

Picard however, would take advantage of this and notice whom Shon, which was the familiar name that the _chen_ always insisted those at the poker table called him, by examining who he was directing his antennae at.

Picard looked over at the chronometer on the wall of his quarters, the Ressikan flute from his simulated life on the planet Kataan sat in its case beneath the timekeeper. Its position had changed several times in the past few months due to Picard's constant rearranging, which he did just to make the room feel new. Various artifacts were displayed throughout the room including a twelve-thousand-year-old Kurlan _neskos_ given to him by his former teacher Professor Richard Galen, an antique Risan _horga'hn_, a sign of virility and that the owner was seeking _jamaharon_, as an ancient Earth maritime navigational tool known as a sexton.

Picard's love for artifacts and the history of them was only outweighed by his love for his ship.

Picard saw that the time was 2200, if he expected to be to the bridge on time the next morning and function well, he knew that he needed to get to sleep. After getting into his sleeping clothes, he told the computer to turn off the lights in his quarters.

v v

Picard awoke at 0600 the next morning and hurriedly took a sonic shower, followed by a breakfast of hot Earl Grey and croissants. He pulled on his black and gray duty uniform over his red command shirt. He then attached his four rank pips to his collar and pinned his communicator to his chest. He gave the waist of the uniform a quick tug and headed out of his quarters for the nearest turbolift.

"Bridge," he informed the computer as soon as the doors shut. The 'lifts on the _Enterprise_ were fairly good sized compared to most. It was circular and about two meters across. A screen on the back wall displayed a layout of the _Sovereign_-class vessel and had small flashing lights indicating the positions of each of the 'lifts and clearly marked decks and sections. The small, bright red dot indicating Picard's own lift quickly made its way towards the bridge of the ship. He drew in a few deep breaths to ready himself for another dull day before the turbolift doors opened into the bustling nerve center of the starship. He instantly headed for the large, center chair that he came to every day. An energetic young crewman stood readily by the chair, a datapad in hand, waiting to give it to his captain.

"Good morning, sir," smiled the male crewman who could have been no older than twenty-one. "Here is the morning report for you."

"Thank you Crewman Michaels," said Picard, taking the pad from the over-eager crewman's hand.

"You're welcome, sir," enthusiastically said the crewman. He headed away from the command chair to the turbolift to continue on with his duties. He swiveled the chair around to look at Worf, who was eyeing Picard with a "Do you want me to take care of him?" look.

Picard could do nothing but smile and laugh, it seemed that all the new crewmembers were thinking they were under the command of some kind of god or holy deity. Picard just shook his head and returned to his duties.

As Picard relaxed into his chair, he took note of his officers socializing. The new CMO, Dr. Clint Neilson, was standing in front of the helm and operations stations, arms outstretched and placing his weight onto the panels. Lieutenant David Reeves was sitting at the helm station, moving his hands about in an animated fashion, as if he were telling an amusing story. Lieutenant Therashon ch'Serikth sat at the Ops station and was listening intently with a smile on his face.

"So you actually dressed him up like a lizard?" Neilson asked Reeves with an accent that Picard could only determine was northeastern American. "Boy I would have liked to have seen that."

"Yeah," Reeves smiled with his light British accent, "We dressed him up so he looked kind of like a Gorn, except a little bit more cuddly."

Ch'Serikth laughed at this, "Right," he began, "And I bet any Gorn who was to see pictures of him as a lizard would think he was about as attractive as a Denibian slime devil."

Reeves shrugged at this, "Well, to each his own, I guess. But you should have seen the look on my roommate's face. Priceless."

Picard loudly cleared his throat at this point, "Well, if you're all quite done gentlemen, we have duty to attend to."

Reeves and ch'Serikth shared a glance, gave a quick "Sorry, sir," and returned to their duties.

Picard laughed to himself about the two officers' quirky friendship that had evolved since their postings to the _Enterprise_. But the thought soon slipped his mind, for he'd just remembered that Dr. Neilson was on the bridge and turned his attention to the man.

Neilson was an older man, he was seventy-six years old, just a little older than Picard's seventy-four years of age. The captain found it surprising that a doctor his age was still serving on a ship, but then Picard thought of his own age and stifled the thought. Neilson was about average height for a human male, just less than six feet. He had gray hair, but with a few streaks of natural black somehow still in between. His face was very lean and clean-cut. Only a few signs of age were apparent. In fact, if Picard hadn't already read Neilson's record, he would have guessed the man was no more than fifty or so years of age. He constantly wore a smile and would always be happy to fix up even the mildest of abrasions. He was relatively thin, but muscular, having taken good care of himself throughout his life.

According to Neilson's record, this would be his fifth assignment as a ship's CMO, having served onboard the _Hood_, the _Ulysses_, the _Kitty Hawk_, and most recently, the _Archer_. He was a man who did not like to linger; he was always looking for new experiences. He had spent the last fifty-eight years in Starfleet.

"Dr. Neilson," Picard said to get the man's attention, "Do you have some business on the bridge?"

Neilson smiled politely at the captain and walked to him with an elegant, proud stride. "Yes, sir, I do," he started, "I've come to recommend several officers that are in dire need of shore leave due to over work or recent stress."

Picard suddenly wondered whom the doctor would be recommending. It was not uncommon for doctors to order crewmembers to take shore leave to help them recover from overwork, recent extreme stress, or a recent death. Picard scanned through the list approvingly, first he noticed Chief Engineer Geordi La Forge, and then looked at the rest, knowing each crewman on the list greatly needed time off, but one name caught his attention.

He looked up questioningly at Neilson, "Why am _I_ on the list, doctor?"

"Because you have not taken any time off since the incident nine months ago," Neilson stated. "I believe a week's shore leave would do excellent things for you."

"But doctor," Picard started, his eyebrows raised and a slight flattered smile appeared on his face.

The ship's CMO, however, interrupted, "May I recommend Risa or perhaps even going to Earth? I'm sure there's a transport or another ship in the area that you could catch a ride on."

"I don't believe I need shore leave, Dr. Neilson," Picard told the doctor.

Neilson gave the captain a stern look, "Captain, don't think I haven't taken notice of your constant rearranging of your quarters, or the things that Counselor Laurence has told me concerning your behavior. I strongly advise you to take the opportunity, or I will have to order you to take it."

Picard knew the doctor was not bluffing, he sighed and looked down at his knees for a brief second and looked back to the doctor. "Alright, I'll take shore leave, but _only_ for a week."

"Very good, Captain," replied Neilson, and he headed for the turbolift, leaving the pad with the list of crewmembers with Picard.

v v

Picard started passing the cards around the brightly lit table, "Five card draw," he said, "and Deuces wild". He passed one card to each person at the table, going around clockwise and continued until each person had five cards in front of them. Each of them had various amounts of chips, due to each of their wins and losses. Lieutenant Reeves was on an especially good streak, having taken the winnings of the past five rounds. Picard feared they had another William T. Riker quality poker player on their collective hands. Shon also had quite a pile of winnings himself, due to his stern Andorian upbringing, which made him able to both hide and express his feelings in powerful ways; he was a killer when he bluffed. His grayish eyes gleamed in the light of the poker table, contrasting greatly with his blue skin, giving him a particularly menacing appearance.

Picard eyed his own hand, the king of hearts, three of diamonds, the king of spades, the eight of spades, and the ace of clubs. The bets were placed and the drawing began. The others at the table put down the cards they didn't want in their hand and signaled for different cards. Worf put down two cards, Geordi put down one, Shon dropped two, and Neilson put down three. Reeves, however, gained a sly look in his eyes and declined.

"Alright," started Picard with a smile and began giving cards, "Two for the Klingon, one for the blind man, two for the Andorian, three for the doctor, none for the hotshot, and three for the captain."

He finished giving the cards to the players, took his own, and then discarded the unwanted cards. Picard looked at his newly acquired cards, the four of clubs, the king of diamonds, and the four of diamonds. Along with the two kings that he had from the previous draw, he had a full house. A good hand. He placed a hundred dollar chip down for the initial bet.

Geordi's eyes widen and he threw down his cards, he had not been doing well that night, "Already too much for my money. I fold."

Worf grunted and called the bet, as did Shon and Neilson.

Reeves, however, placed called and then smiled, "I see your hundred, and raise you two hundred." He then placed down two more blue chips. When they hit the other bets, the clanked together with a loud click.

Picard smirked and called the bet, hoping he made the right choice.

Shon and Neilson both folded.

It was a stand off between the captain and the helmsman. It was a challenge that Picard welcomed. Reeves gave a smirk and put down his hand, "You bloody got me, sir." He displayed his hand; it was a runt. Picard smiled and took the chips. "May I inquire as to what your hand was?" Reeves asked.

"Better than yours, for sure," Picard slyly replied, he showed the hand to Geordi and Worf, who were to his left and right, and they nodded in reply. "We'll just leave it at that."

Reeves laughed, "One of these days I'll figure out what that hand was."

"I'm sure you will," Picard said smugly.

The game continued for a couple hours until everyone had dwindled away. It was only Picard, Geordi and Reeves who were still remaining. Picard was just about to deal when Reeves checked the chronometer, "Well, sirs," he began, "I must be going. I had a lovely time tonight and I look forward to next week." He stood up from his chair with a nodded and headed for the door. Picard and Geordi both placed their hands to the table and leaned back to relax.

"He's sure of himself, that's for sure," said Geordi with a smile.

"He most definitely is," Picard replied. "He's damned cocky, but with his skills, he deserves to be."

Geordi raised his eyebrows and nodded, "I've never seen someone take to piloting a _Sovereign_-class ship so easily."

Picard had to agree. No helm officer the _Enterprise_-E had seen was able to control it so easily. Reeves, however, had taken to it like a fish in water.

Geordi then leaned into the table and rested his elbow on the table and the proceeded to rest his cheek on his hand. "Is it true what they said about him being an engineering major for three years and then switching to helm and going to the Academy for an extra year?"

Picard had read that same story in the lieutenant's profile. "Yes, he'd been using his skills at engineering for the wrong purposes. Fixing up freighters smuggling contraband and such. When he got around to going to the Academy, he'd cleaned up. Most of his professors gave him high honors. He simply decided he didn't want to be an engineer and would rather fly the ship than fix it."

"Well, nevertheless, he'd be good to have in engineering is I wasn't there," Geordi mused.

Picard chuckled, "Well, hopefully we don't find ourselves in a situation where that would happen."

Geordi shared in the captain's laugh, "Yeah, but you know what can happen on this ship. Or maybe he'll decide he does like fixing things more than flying them."

"So, how are things with Leah?" Picard asked.

Geordi smiled at the mention of the woman's name, "Fine, I was planning to take my shore leave on Earth and see her."

"I was also considering taking shore leave on Earth," Picard said, "Maybe see some old friends."

Geordi smiled at that, "Well, perhaps you, Leah and I can all get together."

Picard smiled tiredly at La Forge. He sighed, "That sounds good. But I am going to take some time for... for remembrance."

"Data?" asked Geordi.

Picard nodded, "And for some of those who died while I was on assignment." He thought back on his brother, Robert, and his son, Rene. But they were not the only ones who had died while he was on duty. Too many, in fact, had.

"Well, if you're going to have something for Data, I would like to be there."

Picard nodded and looked away from his friend. Another sigh came. "You were his best friend."

"And you were his mentor," Geordi said. The engineer got up at this, "Well, I hear the _Intrepid_ is in the sector and his en route to Earth. I suppose that's our ride?"

Picard nodded. "We're going to rendezvous with it in fifteen hours. I recommend getting some sleep." He smiled.

Geordi smiled back, "Yeah, I suppose you're right. Good night, Captain." He got up, taking a deep breath through his nose as he rose from his chair. He exited through the doors, once again making the swoosh sound.

v v

Elsewhere in the galaxy, Captain William Thomas Riker was also ending his own poker night. The last of his crewmen left, leaving Riker and his wife, Deanna Troi, alone in the quarters. Riker wasn't used to his new crew. Yes, they all respected him, but they didn't see him as a friend yet. He wanted the crew's trust, not just their respect. Like his days on the _Enterprise_, Riker won almost continuously, even jokingly accused of cheating by his science officer. Poker was quite relaxing to Riker, after long days of negotiations along side the legendary Ambassador Spock. Even the Ambassador had made a few brief appearances at poker nights. Riker was amazed at how well the Vulcan could call his bluffs, but then again, he was no ordinary Vulcan either. Somehow, the Vulcan had managed to make the other players laugh by _logically_ referring to Riker as "Captain Troi". _I need to erase that part of Betazoid culture out of the Starfleet database_, Riker thought to himself, _or all Vulcans will think it's logical to call me that_.

Since then one or two of the bridge crew had accidentally called him that, but quickly corrected themselves. This, of course, would cause subsequent giggles from everyone on the bridge that could giggle.

But other than the few jokes on the bridge, the new captain was very satisfied with the way everything was going. Spock was working very closely with the Romulans and Riker got the feeling that he may be present for the downfall of the Romulan/Federation Neutral Zone. The crew was learning Riker's style, and had quickly adapted to the way he wanted things. Riker was unsure why his first command was a _Sovereign_-class like the _Enterprise_, but he sure did like the ship. _His_ ship. He figured the most likely reason he got the _Titan_ was his long years onboard the _Enterprise-D_ and _E_.

Riker was so deep in thought that when his wife wrapped her arms around him, he was startled. He calmed himself very quickly and smiled at his wife.

"Come to bed," Deanna told him.

He sighed and nodded his head, "I'm coming."

As he was readying himself for sleep, his mind wandered again. _It sure is nice to _talk _to the Romulans and not try to _shoot_ them_, Riker thought. He was literally amazed at how well the peace process was going and how well the Romulan people were welcoming the Federation. In fact, they were allowing the _Titan_'s crew to come down to the planet and see it for themselves. Of course, there were certain risky areas where the Federation citizens were told not to enter, due to a majority of negativity toward the Federation. These were areas where the traditionalists lived. And these areas were quickly diminishing.

In fact, Riker had gone down to the planet several times to sample local cuisine and look for souvenirs. It was an incredible experience, being a human and being able to freely show your face in the Romulan public. In his five times that he went to the planet for non-diplomatic purposes, he had only gotten a few hostile looks from any Romulans.

They were a quite friendly people, the Romulans, when you got past the military. And the military was rarely showing its face at all. This was the most surprising fact to Riker. Had the Imperial Military lost so much power in the government since the fall of Shinzon's regime that they barely even attended diplomatic meetings of historical importance?

That was the biggest question on Riker's mind. He made sure to try and not become too relaxed. He knew that there were always possibilities of hostile action when it came to the Romulans.

But now he needed rest, the Corps of Romulan Diplomats, as they had been dubbed, were due to tour the _Titan_ the next day and proceed to continue treaty discussions onboard.

He lied down next to his wife and let himself drift to sleep, welcoming the challenges of the next day.


	3. Chapter Two

**Chapter Two**

Therashon ch'Serikth groaned as the two-wheeled combustion engine vehicle he was riding began to quiver under him as he turned the ignition. Reeves had promised him a "fun, relaxing time" in the holodeck.

Shon enjoyed spending leisure time with the lieutenant, because the sense of friendship it created made the sickness of being apart from his bond a little more bearable. This however, was somewhat on the crazy side.

Next to the Andorian on another vehicle was Reeves, unaware that Shon's vehicle was starting to come out from underneath him.

Andorian generally didn't indulge in fantasies like this. They'd been too concerned with the secular world of learning to make the most of their bonds and their lives. Because of arising genetic problems that made reproducing harder, Andorians spent most of their lives preparing to have children. And due to the fact it required four genders to reproduce, the Andorian population had dwindled in the last few centuries from three billion to a little over ninety million. Recent breakthroughs in genetics, however, had made it easier, and bonds were still being tested to see if they could become more fertile. Shon and his bondmates were on the waiting list to have the gene therapy done so that more of his race of Andorians could be created, but it would still be long before they could be tested. When that time came however, he had every intention of returning to Andor to engage in the _sheltereth_ in order to procreate.

Shon himself was dressed totally strangely, wearing similar clothing to Reeves, made to fit his trim Andorian build. It was a far cry from his Starfleet uniform and his ceremonial _chen_ garb. He tugged at the clothes uncomfortably, he felt completely uncomfortable in the clothing. A leather jacket, a helmet that crammed down his antennae and pants made of something called denim. He had come aboard the starship to prove that he could explore the galaxy and be a great leader like his idol, General Therrashran ch'Torketh, otherwise known as General Shran, not to gallivant about in some harebrained holo-fantasy. He sighed right before the vehicle that Reeves called a "motorcycle" came out from underneath him, causing him to fall down onto his back.

Reeves stopped and came back around to where Shon was laying down. "Are you alright?" he asked.

Shon nodded his head, "Yes, I'm fine."

Reeves offered him a hand and pulled him to his feet.

"Don't worry," Reeves said, "You'll get the hang of it."

Shon raised an eyebrow and then proceeded to lift his motorcycle and get back on.

Three more attempts later, Shon hung his head and sighed yet again. "I can't take this anymore! Computer, end program!"

The motorcycle and its surroundings suddenly vanished before Reeves could object. "Why'd you do that?" Reeves questioned.

"Because this is idiotic, _never_ ask me to do this again. I'll leave my 'fun and relaxing times' to poker night!" exclaimed the Andorian as he stammered off to the exit of the holosuite. The doors opened as he approached with a loud, mechanical noise. He stomped out into the deck corridor. Several nearby crewmen immediately backed away when they saw him exit with an angry look on his face. Shon, however, took no notice of them as he trudged towards the nearest turbolift.

Meanwhile, David Reeves stood bewildered at the sudden outburst. He stood still for a moment considering, but decided to leave it be. He headed out of the holosuite and was able to catch a glimpse of turbolift doors closing after Shon. The human decided it would be smart not to risk getting the Andorian any angrier. Having heard of their capability for violence, he decided it would be best not to upset him further. He instead, headed for another 'lift.

He entered the 'lift and thought about whether he should go back to his quarters or somewhere else. There were still some parts of the ship he really hadn't gotten to explore. The computer in the 'lift politely asked him his destination with a soft, soothing voice. He turned about the small, circular car and took a look at the _Enterprise _layout that was on the LCARS menu behind him. He was on Deck 6, which was mostly crew quarters, holosuites, and a few labs.

Suddenly, Reeves's comm. badge chimed. "_Ch'Serikth to Reeves_," he heard the voice of Shon say softly.

David smiled and tapped his comm. badge in response, "Yes, Shon?"

He heard Shon sigh slightly over the comm., "_Sorry about all that David. I..."_ He trailed off, looking for the right words. "_I'm just not used to gallivanting around in holodecks and falling on my back_."

Reeves laughed, "Oh, don't worry about it Shon. We're from different cultures. And I doubt you have anything similar to a motorcycle on Andoria."

"_No, we don't_," Shon said. "_And actually, we call our homeworld Andor_."

"Oh, really? It's just what they'd taught me in grade school," Reeves laughed.

"_Well_," Shon started, "_They need to fix that. And next time, _I _get to pick what we do for fun_."

v v

Jean-Luc Picard stood solemnly at the site of where the house Picard had grown up in at Chateau Picard. Now all that remained was a patch of grass upon what had been ground where lives were lived. His eyes watered as he stood upon the ground where his brother and nephew had burned to death seven years before. Now a family who had been working with the Picards on the vineyard for centuries was running the vineyard.

Picard hung his head as his eyes watered. Thoughts of his family that had existed surged through his mind as he stood there and recalled the knowledge that he was the last of his line. He then collected himself and raised his gaze toward the sky.

"To absent friends," he whispered to himself.

He was caught off guard as a hand was rested on his right shoulder. He quickly turned to see Geordi La Forge gazing at him sympathetically.

Despite having ocular implants, Geordi's eyes were fully capable of expressing miniscule emotions. Right now they displayed sympathy. He then smiled and nodded slowly to his captain, "Come on, lets get out of here."

Picard nodded without a word as he wiped tears from his eyes. He slowly turned from the site and walked away towards the aircar that he and Geordi had rented. He never looked back.

As they entered the aircar, Geordi finally spoke up, "I got a communiqué from Admiral Janeway. She needs to see us immediately. It's something to do with B-4."

v v

Picard tugged his uniform as he and Geordi entered Admiral Kathryn Janeway's office. He smiled broadly and extended a hand for the admiral to shake. "Good to see you again, Admiral," Picard said as she took his hand.

"Good to see you too, Jean-Luc," she replied.

Geordi extended his hand to the admiral and greeted her with a quick shake, a nod, and a simple "Admiral."

"Please, sit" Janeway said with a smile, gesturing towards the two chairs before her desk. They say down as she sat. "I'm sorry to cut your shore leave short, gentlemen, but there's business to be attended to."

"What's the problem, Admiral?" Picard asked, his interest suddenly perked.

Janeway inhaled deeply before she spoke, "I'm going to get right to the point, gentlemen, B-4 has gone missing."

"Missing?" Picard and Geordi both asked at the same time.

The admiral shook her head, "Well, not so much missing as escaped with a good head start."

"What's happened?" Picard asked.

"We don't know," she began. "The cyberneticists at the Daystrom Institute had made a break through because he'd completed singing 'Blue Skies' and he had shown signs of more of Data's memory. But what was more shocking was when they examined him."

"What happened?" Picard asked.

Janeway turned a viewer toward them and brought up an image of circuits and wires. Picard couldn't make any sense of it, but he looked over at Geordi.

"Amazing," Geordi began.

"What is it?" Picard asked.

"It's a layout of B-4's positronic brain," Geordi answered.

Picard didn't know much of anything about cybernetics; he couldn't make heads or tails of a picture of a bunch of jumbled circuits.

"I'm sorry, I don't quite understand," Picard began.

"B-4's memory engrams have been reworked," Geordi stated, "These readouts look more like scans of Data's brain than B-4's."

"So, Data's memory patterns..." Picard began.

"Are replacing B-4's," Geordi finished.

Janeway leaned in at this, "B-4 stole an experimental warp 9 runabout from the Institute's hangar. We believe he's headed for Omicron Theta. We want you to track him down. We've got a high-speed transport waiting for you that will rendezvous with the _Enterprise_. From there you'll take the ship and go to Omicron Theta."

"Why would B-4 head for Omicron Theta?" Picard asked.

"It's possible that B-4 has a homing device much like the ones Data and Lore had that brought them to Dr. Soong," Geordi theorized. His eyes darted back and forth as he thought up what was likely happening. "A signal to return him to the point of origin if he requires repairs."

Picard turned back to the admiral. "How soon do we leave?"

Janeway smiled and handed him a padd, "As soon as possible." He rested her chin on the back of her hand, which she propped up with her elbows. "I knew you'd be eager to go."

v v

Picard sat with Geordi in the lounge of a high-speed freighter, which happened to be a route that would bring them to meet the _Enterprise_. He still shook his head, trying to make sense of what the changes in B-4 could mean.

"Geordi," he began, "If Data's memory is really replacing B-4's, then would it be possible that Data's mind would become dominate inside B-4's mind?"

Geordi though about it and nodded, "It's possible. Data does have more memory and personality pathways than B-4, and they're much more advanced. I guess it could end up in a sort of split personality manner. B-4 as a being could be completely destroyed by Data's memories and programming."

"And the phoenix rises from the ashes..."

The next day, Picard found himself onboard the _Enterprise_, in his familiar chair, four days sooner than he had expected. Commander Martin Madden had relinquished the seat to him as soon as the 'lift doors had opened. "Welcome back, sir," he said with a smile. "I kept your seat warm."

"Good," Picard chimed back to his executive officer, "Let's get down to business. Lieutenant Reeves, set a course for Omicron Theta, warp 8. Lieutenant ch'Serikth, set up an active scan for B-4's runabout. I want an immediate report if any trace of its warp signature is found."

"Yes, sir," replied both Reeves and ch'Serikth. They went about charting courses and setting up scans, as their duties bid them to do.

Picard sat back in his chair and thought about what had happened. It vaguely reminded him of the death and rebirth of Ambassador Spock, whose mind had been put into Dr. Leonard McCoy, and then returned to the body after they'd both been taken to Vulcan. Was it possible that a very similar event was happening as he sat there thinking?

v v

Commander Martin Madden sat at the observation deck table between Commander Worf and Doctor Clint Neilson as he listened to Chief Engineer Commander Geordi La Forge informed the senior officers of the _Enterprise_ of the changes that were occurring within the android known as B-4. Across from him were Lieutenants David Reeves and Therashon ch'Serikth, and Counselor Laurence to the right of them.

He listened intently, trying to make sense of Commander La Forge's cybernetic technobabble about the stray android. He really didn't understand cybernetics that well, but was trying his best to understand. From what he could tell, the android had gone berserk and decided it needed to return to the place where it had been built, Omicron Theta, and they were to intercept it. Captain Picard and Commander La Forge both hoped that perhaps these changes signified an emergence of Commander Data's memories inside the less advanced android.

Madden had never met Commander Data in his years in Starfleet, in fact, he was Data's replacement. If it weren't for the commander's death six months before aboard the _Scimitar_, Data would've been the executive officer aboard the _Enterprise_.

In fact, Madden had never taken much care to research the commander until he had been told he would be assigned as the _Enterprise_'s executive officer. Only then had he learned of the android's truly admirable service record; knowledge that inspired Madden to strive ever harder to be the best first officer he could be. Some had told him he was too stricken by duty, but if it weren't for duty, none of them would be there at that table.

He sat back when Commander La Forge finished his explanation, "So," he began, "What are we to do when we retrieve B-4?"

Captain Picard placed his forearms on the table and leaned in, "We're to return him to the Daystrom Institute." He then glanced to La Forge, "En route, we should try to find any clues as to what's happened to B-4."

The comm. suddenly signaled as Picard finished. "_Sir_," said the voice of the officer on duty in the bridge, _"We've detected the runabout's warp signature and have adjusted course to pursue directly_."

"Acknowledged," Picard replied. He examined all the faces at the briefing table. "Stations," he ordered.

Lieutenant Junior Grade Therashon ch'Serikth examined the sensor readouts as he seated himself at the operations station. He instantly could see a problem, "Sir," he began aloud toward Captain Picard, catching his attention, "He's got enough of a head start that we'll never catch him before he reaches Omicron Theta, but if we increased to maximum warp, we won't have much time to get away when he goes down there."

Shon saw his captain nod in agreement; "Make it so," he ordered.

Shon turned to Lieutenant Reeves and nodded. Reeves punched a few commands into his console and announced, "Increasing to warp 9.99. We might have a little shaky ride."

"Noted," Picard replied quickly. "Lieutenant ch'Serikth, what's our estimated time of arrival?"

"At present speed," began Shon, "We should reach Omicron Theta in thirty minutes."

"And how long until B-4's runabout arrives?" Picard asked.

"Fifteen minutes, sir," Shon answered. He gripped the edges of the armrests on his chair as the _Enterprise_ accelerated to its absolute maximum cruising speed. In reality, it was very difficult to discern the speed differences, even at such a high velocity. But for some reason, Shon hated the idea of not holding himself in place when he knew he was going so fast. It was illogical, yes, but he had this inexplicable fear of the inertial dampers failing as they come out of warp, throwing him through the bulkhead before him because his body kept moving at warp 9 but the ship did. It was a stupid idea, but for some reason, Shon found himself gripping the armrests every time the ship went to warp.

He noticed David stealing a few puzzled glances at him as he monitored the helm. Shon shook his head and murmured that it was nothing, which got David to go back to his duties. He continued examining his own console, keeping a sharp eye for anything that might come up on sensors.

"Commander Madden," Shon heard Captain Picard say from behind at the command chair.

"Yes, sir?" responded Madden.

"I will be leading the away team when we reach Omicron Theta," Picard said firmly. And before Madden could get in a word, as Shon knew he would, he added, "And don't quote rules and regulations."

Shon got excited, he'd rarely gotten the opportunity to go on away missions, and whenever he did, something unpleasant always seemed to happen. It was as if Uzaveh himself was coming from the heavens to tell him that away missions were not a good idea for Therashon ch'Serikth. But seeing as some of the "mishaps" that had occurred before, he doubted Captain Picard would choose him for the mission.

He then listened intently, trying to balance doing his job and eavesdropping. He heard the captain tap his comm. badge. "Picard to La Forge," he said.

"_La Forge here_," responded the engineer's voice.

"Geordi," began Picard, I want you on the away team. You're the one most familiar with B-4's systems; I'll need you down there."

"_Yes, sir_," Shon heard La Forge say. He took a glance over at Reeves, who was smiling.

Shon then caught the captain swiveling in his chair out of his eye. "Mr. Worf," he said, "In case B-4 becomes violent then I believe your presence will be necessary."

"Yes, sir," replied Worf in a deep tone. It seemed to Shon that despite the Klingon's love for battle, he detested the idea of combat with the childish android.

Finally, Picard turned in Shon and Reeves' direction. "Mr. Reeves and Mr. Ch'Serikth, you both will be needed in retrieving the craft that B-4 his stolen. He may land the shuttle and he may leave it in orbit to transport down. Either way, I want you two piloting it back to the Enterprise."

Shon and Reeves both nodded and replied with a sharp, "Yes, sir."

"Oh, and Mr. Ch'Serikth," Picard began, with a smile on his face, "This time, I don't want to find myself or anyone else in a pit of Merosian fire slugs."

Shon heard a few chuckles come from the various officers on the bridge. Shon did his best to smile, despite the fact that his blue face was turning purple with embarrassment. "I'll do my best, sir," he replied hesitantly.


	4. Chapter Three

**Chapter Three**

Picard blinked his eyes as the shimmering blue light of the transporter beam faded from his view. He found himself on the barren landscape of Omicron Theta. Dead trees, boulders, and craters marked the area as if he'd come upon a meteor impact site. The truth was, the attack from the Crystalline Entity over forty years before had laid the planet to waste, and new life was just starting to develop in the form of a few wild grasses and shrubs. Starfleet scientists had been working on redeveloping the planet, but the affects of the Entity were too hard to really be able to cause major change. The most they could do was plant a few species on the planet and hope and ecology developed.

Picard looked about his away team, consisting of Geordi, Worf and himself. Geordi had already pulled out a tricorder and was scanning for B-4's positronic signature. He got a fixed and pointed to the north, "He's headed that way. Toward Dr. Soong's old lab."

Picard nodded and began the walk toward the cave where Soong's lab that they found fifteen years before had been. Geordi and Worf followed. After a half a kilometer of walking through the barren landscape, they reached the entrance to the lab, to find its hatch closed.

"Geordi," Picard began, "Can you open it?"

"Yeah, give me a minute or two. B-4 seems to have encrypted the entry codes," Geordi replied. He tapped a few commands into his tricorder and knelt down.

Worf looked about watchfully, "What do you think Data...I mean, B-4, is doing in there?"

Geordi shook his head, "We can't be sure until we get in there, it could be repairs, or he could be destroying himself."

Picard stood with his back resting against the rock face surrounding Soong's lab. _What the hell is going on?_ Picard asked himself. The thought stopped short, however, when the hatch to the lab opened up and Geordi stood up.

Worf moved forward to the front with a Type Three phaser rifle drawn. The light atop the rifle shone into the dark room, illuminating various glass tubes, consoles and wires.

Geordi held up the tricorder and waved it about, looking for B-4's signature. "He's deeper into the compound." He lifted a finger toward a door to their left, "That way."

Worf was the first to enter the next room; he quickly scanned the area, using the light on the phaser rifle to look for any potential targets. The cool metallic surface of the phaser was only made cooler by the sweat on his palms. He found nothing and looked to Picard who was standing on the other side of the threshold.

"Nothing here, sir," he informed the captain.

He was doing a good job keeping a calm demeanor, but in reality, he was as anxious to find B-4 as much as Captain Picard and Commander La Forge. The prospect of resurrecting Commander Data was important to all of them. If it were possible that Data could return, then they would try their best to return him from the dead. Data was an honorable man, and Worf hoped that the adolescence of the primitive android, B-4, was gone. He hated B-4. To Worf, it was like an abomination and mockery of Data, much as he'd felt towards Lore, whom Worf was happy to know had been destroyed.

"Very good, Mr. Worf," Picard said as he and La Forge entered the room and proceeded to the next door.

La Forge examined the tricorder one more time. "He's in the next room and he's activated several systems," he said with a nod.

Worf locked eyes with Picard and knew immediately what to do by the time Picard had nodded towards the door. He raised his weapon and tapped the door panel, and as the doors swooshed open, Worf caught sight of two identical persons. One was B-4 in an orange jump suit, the other looked exactly like B-4, but more human in his features. He had skin tone and unruly hair. He was standing over B-4 with tools in hand.

B-4's head plate had been removed and all his wiring exposed. His eyes were opened and darting about the room in a quizzical, examining fashion.

"Do not move!" Worf exclaimed as he stepped into the room and trained his weapon on the two.

From behind, Worf heard Geordi gasp, "Doctor Soong?" he asked.

The one who was examining B-4 looked up towards the away team and smirked. "That's me," said the man.

"It can't be," said Picard, "Soong died twelve years ago, as an old man."

Soong pointed towards a point of light in the corner of the room. "I'm a hologram of Soong," he began, "Designed to do any repairs if the safeguard on any of my androids brought them here."

"Safegaurd?" Worf asked.

Soong nodded. "This android was one of my three prototypes." He pointed to B-4's open head. "They were never much more than children, and they were failed attempts at creating truly sentient artificial life."

"Oh," Geordi said, "So this is one of the androids Data's 'mother' told him about. And it must be the same basic hologram program that he placed in her positronic relays."

"Ah," began Soong, "So you've met Juliana? Wait, her positronic relays?"

"Yes," said Picard, "We have. And never mind that."

"How is she?" Soong asked.

"That's beside the point, Dr. Soong," said Picard.

"Ah yes, forgive me," replied Soong. "But first," he looked to Worf and pushed downward on the phaser rifle in his hand, "Put that thing away."

Picard nodded to Worf and had him put away the rifle. "Now," he began, "Would you mind explaining what's going on here?"

Soong smirked and nodded. "It's part of a masterful plan," he said smugly. "See, before the real Dr. Soong left this lab, he left a complete memory download in the form of me. I'm part of a failsafe device. You see, if Data or any other android I developed that was left here was to become active and needed major repairs, they had a homing device that brought them here. And I was left to fix them."

"Wait," Geordi started, "Data was with us when we came here thirteen years ago, why weren't you activated then?"

The hologram raised his eyebrows, "Because Data didn't need to be fixed."

Picard was puzzled.

"You see, the homing device also sends out a signal that activates me when the androids arrive here at Omicron Theta. I wasn't activated because I wasn't needed."

Picard nodded, "So what's the problem with B-4?"

Soong smirked again, "Quite simply put: there's too much memory being used. From what I can tell, Data tried to download his memory into B-4 here. It's a little too much for the little guy to handle." He pinched one of B-4's cheeks and gave it a tug as he said "little guy".

Geordi nodded, "Yeah, Data wanted to give B-4 the chance to let his mind grow and evolve. He thought a memory download was the only way possible."

"So what can be done?" Picard asked.

"Well, I've upgraded his processor to be more like Data and Lore. He's capable of learning and developing now," Soong said with a smile. He then took a deep breath and looked down, "I don't know, however, if B-4 will retain his individuality. He was so different from Data and had so much less memory than Data that it's possible he could wake up from this sleep mode and think he's Data. But then, he might not. I'm not sure."

"Sleep mode?" Worf asked gruffly.

"Yes," Soong said, "Because it's such a complex change in his thought process, he needs time to reboot. I can't say how long, it could be hours, days or months. A lot of new neural pathways need to be created so that he can absorb all this memory." He raised his shoulders in a shrug; "I guess he won't be much more than a vegetable until his mind is finished rebooting."

"So can we take him back now?" Geordi asked.

"It should be fine," Soong nodded as he placed the head plate back on to the android, making him look whole again. He leaned in and whispered into the android's ear, "Goodbye son. Which ever one you end up being."

Worf groaned, "We cannot transport out of here directly. We'll have to carry him."

Picard raised an eyebrow toward Worf, "Are you not strong enough to lift a man, Mr. Worf?"

Worf squinted and scrunched his eyebrows, "I am, sir."

"Then make it so, Mr. Worf," said Picard, gesturing his hands toward the android.

Worf walked over to B-4 and grabbed him beneath the armpits as Geordi grabbed his ankles.

Picard then turned to the hologram of Dr. Noonien Soong. "Thank you for your help, Doctor."

Soong smiled and nodded, "Anything for my boys." He sighed. "I guess it's time for me to go back into the computer." He looked back at the projector. "Goodbye," he said as he vanished into the darkness.

v v

Captain Will Riker stood in the Romulan senate with the Corps of Diplomats. He had his head tilted back, looking up at the grandiose ceiling above him and the walls about. Intricate portraits of a bird of prey with two planets in its talons adorned everything. The air was somewhat stifled; it was an old building, after all. Sometimes even advanced ventilation systems were not enough to rid a building of its antiquity.

Here he was, a Starfleet captain inside the Romulan senate because of a _diplomatic_ mission.

"Ahem," came a voice to his side. It was that of Ambassador Spock, who was sitting down at a seat on a side of the hall opposite that of the Romulans.

Riker was embarrassed and smiled, "My apologies," he told the ambassador as he took his own seat.

He then placed his hands on the table before him, with his fingers intertwined and thumbs held up above his hands.

"Well, gentlemen," said the Praetor, who sat at the forefront of the Romulan panel of delegates, "I believe it's time we got started."

Riker and Ambassador Spock both nodded respectfully. The today's events were supposed to start with televised speeches by both the Praetor and Ambassador Spock, which were to be broadcast on all frequencies.

The Praetor approached a podium in the right side of the hall, which was facing a camera. He placed his hands on the podium, composed himself and waited for the prompter to give him the signal.

After a minute or so, the prompter gave the Praetor the signal and he cleared his throat to begin the speech.

"Citizens of both the Romulan Empire and the United Federation of Planets. Today is a momentous occasion. We of the Romulan government have reached an accord amongst ourselves and with the delegates of the Federation that will not only bring peace to the quadrant, but stability to Romulus."

His eyes seemed to gleam with excitement as he prepared to tell the quadrant of their plans.

"We, the government and citizens of the Romulan Empire have decided that we have hit a turning point. The path of imperialism is over. It is our intent to reform the government over a period of the next several years into a new body, serving the citizens of the now fallen empire as a democracy. This democracy will view all beings as equals, and as the first act, we shall make all second-class citizens and slaves emancipated of their legal restrictions so that they have all freedoms that Romulan citizens are entitled to."

The Praetor smiled, but then looked off to his side toward the Romulan delegates as if he had heard something.

Riker looked and listened in that direction, and heard a faint humming sound. "What is that?" he asked aloud, getting up from the seat to find out. He soon got his answer.

An explosion ripped through the hall, beginning on the side where the Romulan delegates sat, instantly incinerating every one of them. Riker, acting with the incredible reflexes that adrenaline and a sense of danger provide, leaped towards Ambassador Spock and several other Federation delegates, pinning them to the floor as the flames of the explosion roared above them.

v v

Deanna Troi-Riker quickly ran to the bridge from the Lounge as saw the explosion she during the Praetor's speech. She tapped her comm. badge on the way out, ordering an emergency medical team to be ready to beam down to the Capital when the ship was rocked from phaser fire and the red alert klaxons flared.

"Report!" Deanna ordered from the first officer, Commander Klix.

The Denobulan looked to her, his hair frazzled as he held himself tightly to the command chair. "We're under attack from an unknown source. We can't get a fix on it!"

Suddenly, a console to her right exploded, sending a crewman flying. She raced over to him, to find his face badly burned while he screamed in pain.

Fire raged in the back of the bridge and she grabbed an extinguisher that had popped out of an alcove in the wall. She diverted her eyes as she put out the flames before her. A pair of nurses entered the bridge to attend to the wounded as she raced about, trying to help Commander Klix keep sanity. She covered her eyes as a surge of power shot through the Commander as he took a seat at the helm. He was blasted back by the shock and fell limply to the floor.

Deanna watched as a nurse examined him closely. The nurse shook her head, "He's gone."

Deanna nodded and took the center chair. "Locate the source of the attack and fire as soon as you find it!" she ordered.

She looked to the viewscreen and gasped when she saw something flash in front of the _Titan_, just as another explosion rocked the bridge, sending her out of consciousness.

v v

Geordi La Forge placed B-4 into a chair in the lab back on the _Enterprise_ and stood back. The android's eyes still shot back and forth as if he was looking for something in the room, but still couldn't find it.

"You just sit tight," he said to the android as he patted him on the shoulder. He then turned and left the lab and headed for engineering. As he headed out the door, the ship-wide comm. chimed.

"All senior officers, report to the Observation lounge," said the soft female voice of the computer. Geordi didn't remember being told of a conference, so his interests were perked. He knew right about now, there was supposed to be a broadcast from the Romulan Praetor. Something had to be up.

He scanned about the deck with the various spectra he saw with his ocular implants and found the turbolift. It was something he just gotten used to, deciphering brilliant colors and patterns for the physical objects they were. It was no different than when he had learned Braille as a child before he received the VISOR. The implants were really no different than the way he saw with the VISOR, he just looked more "normal" as Dr. Soran would have put it.

He made his way to the 'lift and ordered it to go to the bridge, from there he could get to the Observation lounge for this unexpected staff meeting. He stood, looking about for the next minute as the 'lift took him to the bridge. Once the 'lift doors opened, he briskly walked across the bridge, avoiding a passing crewman and entered the lounge.

Geordi found he was the last of the officers to arrive, and he quickly took a seat between Worf and Lieutenant ch'Serikth so that they could begin. Captain Picard was sitting at his normal position at the head of the table, with his eyes fixed on a blank viewscreen.

Picard then cleared his throat, "Five minutes ago, the Romulan Praetor began a speech that was to affect the balance of power in the quadrant to one of peace. Unfortunately, a bomb had been planted in the Senate hall, where the speech was being given. Ambassador Spock, Captain Riker and the other Federation delegates were in the hall at the time of the explosion."

"Is everyone alright?" Geordi asked, in concern for his friend, Riker.

Picard shook his head. "We don't know," he responded. "We've lost contact with the _Titan_ and _all_ Romulan worlds."

Worf grunted, "So they're instigating another _coup de tat_. Dishonorable _p'taq_'s"

Picard nodded grimly, "It would seem that someone wants to stop the peace process."

"So what are our orders?" Commander Madden inquired.

"We're to go to Romulus immediately to find the _Titan_ and establish contact with the Romulan government to see what the hell is going on," Picard said with a bit of anger in his voice.

Geordi understood that anger. Picard wanted nothing more than peace with the Romulans, but the Romulans didn't seem to all want peace with the Federation. And even if a small group wants something in the Romulan Empire, they'd try for it.

"Is it a terrorist cell that executed this attack?" Counselor Laurence asked.

"We don't know," Picard replied. "It could be terrorists, but crafty ones, or any other number of possibilities. We believe the _Titan_'s been attacked since we've lost contact with her." He looked to Dr. Neilson. "Doctor, when we arrive at Romulus, there will likely be a number of causalities that will need medical help. Have a team ready in sickbay and another team ready to beam to the surface."

Neilson nodded and seemed to already be planning courses of action in his head, because his attention drifted towards the table before him.

"The situation we are going into is likely _very_ volatile," Picard said grimly, "We need to be ready for absolutely anything."

The officers nodded.

"Dismissed," Picard said.


	5. Chapter Four

**Author's Notes and Disclaimers**: First off, I want to apologize for the delay between this and the last chapter. Shortly after Chapter Three was published, I experienced what can only be described as an emotional incident which led to a writer's block. I have overcome that obstacle with a bit of time and inspiration and now have finished work on Chapter Four. Now, I'd like to credit a few events mentioned in this chapter to their proper origins. The Rashanar and Tezwa incidents are from the "A Time To..." series that have been coming out through out the course of the year. The diplomatic situation involving the Palami is from the graphic novel "Forgiveness", printed by Wildstorm Comics. The mission to Illarh is from the short story "What Dreams May Come" by Michael Jan Friedman out of the "Tales of the Dominion War" anthology. And once again, I'd like to credit Heather Jarman's "Paradigm" from Worlds of Deep Space Nine, Volume One for it's wonderful establishment of Andorian culture.

EDIT: I've changed the surnames of Shon's bondmates. I discovered that the name system was different from what I thought it was, so I've changed to compensate. I've also put upside down and right side up "v"'s in order to signify changes of thought. Previously I had stars in there, but the website it not displaying them.

**Chapter Four**

Jean-Luc Picard tapped his heels against the white horse's flanks as he was riding to urge it into a gallop. All around him, trees shot past his vision as the wind ran over his body.

To the casual observer, one might not know that all around Picard was a collection of energized photons inside a large cubic room. And all around that cubic room was a ship traveling at warp nine-point-nine-five, or four thousand one hundred eighty-three times the speed of light. But that was the effect a holodeck had on a person. One could go from being in a briefing concerning recent emergencies and then be riding English saddle in the wink of an eye. This was the closest to true freedom from the confines of the starship that he had. Picard did love his ship, but once in a while he needed to stretch his legs, so to speak.

He was just giving Mallaroy, as he'd come to call the holographic horse that he rode so often, another kick to gain pace when the comm. channel opened with the voice of Commander Madden.

"_Madden to Picard_," said Madden.

Picard slowed the horse to a halt and looked up as if he was going to see Madden's face in the holographic sky. "Picard here," he responded with an exasperated tone.

"_Sir, we'll be entering the Neutral Zone within the hour_," Madden informed him.

"Thank you, Commander," Picard said as he dismounted from Mallaroy. The comm. channel closed and he ordered an exit from the holodeck. He knew he needed to find his way to his quarters first to change and deposit his saddle.

Despite being given the option of wearing holographic attire for his gentle ride atop his steed, Picard always felt the necessity to wear actual riding clothing. Yes, it was convenient for clothes to just appear over his uniform, giving him the appearance of being in character, but it didn't _feel_ right. He always found the latest incarnation of Starfleet uniform somewhat uncomfortable, but it was leaps and bounds better than the one-piece jump suit uniforms of the late 2050's and early 2060's. If anything, it was more reminiscent of the three-piece officer's uniform that Starfleet was using at the time Picard had graduated from the Academy.

More comfortable or not, the command uniform was not meant for riding. And in contrast, the riding clothes were not meant for command, and thus, Picard went on his normal route from the holodeck to his quarters.

After a minute or two, he arrived at his destination. Once inside and the door shut behind him, Picard placed his saddle in the closet and checked his uniform in the mirror after he put it on. He gave it a quick tug at the waste and exited his quarters and set a route for the nearest turbolift. After navigating the hall to avoid a few crewmen and get to his destination he entered the 'lift. After the doors shut firmly behind him, he ordered it to take him to the bridge. After standing idly in the lift for thirty seconds, it stopped to a halt and the doors whooshed open to reveal the bridge before him.

Picard briskly walked out of the 'lift and towards his chair. He didn't hesitate to begin giving orders. "Commander Madden," he began, "I want a repeating message on all channels to begin right before we enter the Neutral Zone, stating that we have no hostile intentions, we are only going to Romulus to find the _Titan_."

"Aye, sir," Madden responded promptly and began ordering about a few crewman to begin with the message.

"Mr. Reeves," Picard said as he sat in the command chair, "How long until we reach the Neutral Zone?"

"At present course and velocity," Reeves began, "We will cross into the Neutral Zone in fifty eight standard minutes."

"And how long until we reach Romulus?" Picard asked.

"It will be another nine days at present speed," Reeves said.

Picard frowned. It was eleven light years from the border of the Neutral Zone to Romulus, and even at warp nine point nine-five, that was not a small distance. "That's not good enough,"

Picard said, "Increase speed to warp nine point nine-nine." At high warp, every few points are a major increase in speed; nearly four fold, in fact. The _Enterprise _was capable of sustaining warp nine point nine-nine for up to thirty-six hours. It was plenty of time for them to get a major leg of the journey behind them. He looked about and sighed.

"I'll be in the lab," he said.

v v

"What's going on inside of you?" Picard asked B-9, who was still in a half animated state. The android's eyes darted about the room and his lips made very slight movements, as if he was going to say something but retracted the idea.

Picard reflected on the previous two years. Ever since the Baku incident, things had not gone well for the crew of the _Enterprise_, and especially not for Data. The _Enterprise_, for a time, had become Starfleet's waste bucket. After the Rashanar incident, Starfleet lost confidence in the flagship and her crew. This led to second-rate officers being assigned to the ship, and her missions being constrained to secondary priorities, away from the Dominion War and other more important issues. The _Enterprise_ had served her purpose now and then since the Baku incident, such as quelling the possible Palami uprising from their quarantine, but the Rashanar incident seemed to seal the ship's fate. It was only until after the Reman takeover of the Romulan Empire and the crew's performance did things go to the way they had been before. The Enterprise had become the pride of the fleet, but at a price.

Data, most of all, took the brunt of the assault of the _Enterprise_'s fall from grace. Because of his actions at Rashanar, Admiral Nakamura had convinced Starfleet to strip Data of the thing that had brought him his closest to humanity: his emotion chip. Data, rather than resigning his commission to keep his emotions, decided that maintaining the friendships he had crafted aboard the Enterprise was more important and he allowed his emotion chip to be stolen from him.

Picard never understood the reasoning. Other beings had emotions, but Starfleet allowed them to enter the fleet. But because Data was capable of going without emotions and his judgment had been "clouded" by them, his ability to feel was taken from him.

In a way though, despite being stripped of his emotion chip, Data didn't loose all his ability to experience emotion. He had saved Picard and the crew's lives by destroying the thalaron reactor aboard the Reman ship and sacrificing himself in the process. And no matter how much Picard analyzed to find someone that he could blame for the events of late, he still could not rest easy.

Such thoughts of rest quickly faded from his mind, for now Picard was staring into the eyes of another android. An android that brought about the possibility of new life. And life was never brought about through idleness.

If one were to take a broad view of things, however, all blame could be laid on the initial contact with the Dominion and the destruction of the _Odyssey_. That incident led to the Dominion War after three years of tensions. And because of the Dominion War, the _Enterprise_ had, in essence, become the Federation's odd job handler. Any minor diplomatic assignments or other matters away from the front lines that needed to be attended to, the _Enterprise_ was there.

However, the ship did get her fair share of the war. Attacks on minor Dominion outposts were the main duty the crew saw. One such event occurred over the planet Illarh in which Picard's friend Gilaad Ben Zoma, formerly of the _Stargazer_, took part.

But all the events after the Dominion War still came to one point for the _Enterprise_ as her crew, the Reman Incident. Yet the prior events were not to be ignored either. The Tezwan fiasco, for one point led to major problems. It was this incident that led to Worf rejoining Starfleet, several of the junior officers that had come aboard either departing or being killed. While he regretted the loss of officers that had proven themselves to be quite above second-rate, despite what Picard initially believed, he couldn't complain about the officers he had now. It was just that he did not know how they could handle a crisis situation, especially now that one seemed so imminent.

v v

Captain William T. Riker awoke to a splitting headache and the sight of a Romulan guard in a military uniform. He raised a hand to his forehead and moaned. The guard tensed and got a tighter grip on his disrupter rifle, which was trained away from Riker, presumably to another object in need of guarding.

Riker could see a shadow move slightly across the wall. "Please, let me see if he is alright," said a grizzled voice.

The Romulan slowly lowered his weapon and nodded. The face of Ambassador Spock suddenly came into view.

"Ambassador," Riker started, but the Vulcan hushed him.

"Don't, Captain," he said, "You have a concussion and other injuries that require you to rest."

"Who?" Riker asked, but he couldn't finish the question.

"I'm not sure, Captain," Spock informed him. "But judging by our guard's attire," he said in a whisper, "I would guess the Romulan Imperial Military is involved somehow."

"Figures," muttered Riker as he slipped back into unconsciousness.

v v

He wouldn't want to admit it if one was to accuse him of it, but Lieutenant Junior Grade Therashon ch'Serikth was skulking. Despite the knowledge that the _Enterprise_ was in Romulan space, and within two hours of the Romulan star system and he was skulking. Shon hated that he was doing this and cursed at himself the whole time, yet he could not pull himself away from the holo-image of he and his bondmates. He examined each of his three spouses' faces, remembering the smell and feel of each of them.

Non-Andorians didn't realize the emotional intensity there was involved with being a bonded Andorian. Most two gendered species couldn't grasp the concept of a marriage of four. Thus no one on board except other Andorians knew what he was feeling.

Denobulans had a slight understanding; they each took three spouses. Each male had three wives, and each wife had three husbands and so and so forth. In a way, the entire race was nothing but extended family. But they were still only two gendered, so they still didn't understand completely what it meant to be bonded: to be Whole.

But that's the way Andorians were. That's the way they had to be. Without the Whole, offspring could not be produced and true peace could not be achieved. Right now, Therashon was away from his bondmates, away from the Whole, and that worried him.

He knew he was going into a potentially dangerous situation and thus, he felt the need to feel close to his loved ones when he still had time.

He looked at Vetarissah zh'Norah. Her smiling face beamed back at him. The _zhen_ had always been the one of his bondmates he felt the absolute closest to. But then, it was common for a _zhen_ and _chen_ to be closer to each other than other bondmates, for their roles in the _sheltereth_ were more closely linked, just as it was common for the _shen_ and _thaan_ to be closer to each other.

The Serikth bondgroup had always been strong though. Each of the four in the bondgroup loved the others very much, but Rissah was always Shon's best friend, and he missed her greatly. Her white hair was flowing gently in the Andorian wind. She was always considered by Shon and his other bondmates as "the pretty one". Everyone hoped that if they were to produce a young _zhen_, that she would take after her _Zhavey_.

He looked at the faces of his other bondmates, Serloja sh'Miret and Kretash th'Korrin. Then, in between the three of them, right between Rissah and Loja, stood Shon.

The image had been taken right after their bonding ceremony by one of their human friends, and the group was beaming. Smiles adorned his and his bondmates faces for they all knew they were Whole.

All he hoped was that whatever happened involving the bombing on Romulus, that he would be returning to the Whole and hold Rissah in his arms once again.

Just as a single tear dropped to smother the top of Loja's head, the ship-wide comm. system sounded.

"All senior officers report to the bridge," stated the voice of the computer.

Shon sighed as he stood up, wiped his eyes, placed the holo-image back onto his nightstand, straightened his uniform jacket and headed for the door.

v v

Picard at times did feel a sense of absolute power, of life and death from his command chair. It was if he was a king of old, presiding over a nation by some divine right that he claimed to have.

_Right now I need to exercise my power in the correct way_, the captain thought. He knew that his actions in the coming hours might not only affect the lives of his ship and his crew, but the lives of countless others. For all he knew, the possibilities could be range from some kind of widespread malfunction within Romulan technology or it could be another _coup_.

But now all he could do was wait, as his ship raced at thousands of times the speed of light toward Romulus. Minutes seemed like days. It was a common thing in the waiting game, to feel time prolonged. Picard often found himself wondering why an hour seemed so much longer than it really was when he was expecting something.

There was an hour left until the ship reached the Romulan star system, but he wanted to be on the bridge in caseany early surprises were to present themselves.

He looked about calmly at his crew. Commander Madden and Counselor Laurence sat on either side of him at their respective station. He stopped his gaze at the Laurence. "Counselor,are you picking up any thoughts out there or any emotions?"

The young, blonde, full-blooded Betazoid woman shook her head. "I don't get anything but a slight confusion emanating from the colony worlds. I believe the Romulan public is as clueless to the situationas we are."

Picard nodded at her analysis and looked to Lieutenant ch'Serikth at Ops. "Mr. ch'Serikth," the captain began, "Begin a long range scan for any signs of the _Titan_."

The Andorian nodded. Right as he was about to punch in the commands to his console, however, a small klaxon sounded. "Umm, sir," he began, "I think we just found our sign."

"What is it?" asked Commander Madden. The young first officer rose from his chair and took up a position right behind the Ops officer, standing right between ch'Serikth and Reeves, who was at helm.

"Well, at first, it appeared to be a stray meteoriod, but then I received a strange signal from it."

"What do you mean? What is it?" Picard asked impatiently. The Andorian was thorough, the captain had to admit, but sometimes that thoroughness was a little annoying.

"A Starfleet probe, Class II," responded ch'Serikth.

Surprise hit Picard like an old twentieth century freight-train. "Origin?" Picard asked promptly

"Origin?" Picard asked promptly.

"It does appear to have come from the _Titan_, sir. It's emitting some kind of signal," said Shon, slowly trailing off.

"What kind of signal, Lieutenant?" Picard asked.

The Andorian turned around to face his captain with a somewhat quizzical look on his face. "It's radio, sir."


	6. Chapter Five

**Author's Note: **Sorry for taking so long to get this chapter up. I had a LOT of computer problems that have just recently been fixed. Hopefully I can find the time and inspiration to go further and get on with Chapter Six. Once again, all the normal disclaimers, Paramount owns Star Trek, all that stuff, anyway. Picard's "niece", Amarante Lebel, comes from the short story "Eleven Hours Out" from the anthology Tales of the Dominion War. All mention of the Palami comes from the graphic novel Forgiveness. And the Andorian stuff once again to "Paradigm" by Heather Jarman.

**Chapter Five**

Picard frowned as he listened to the recorded message once again. The _Enterprise_ was speeding towards the location given by the transmission, but he felt he needed to listen once again for any details he may have missed.

"_To all Starfleet vessels, this is Commander Deanna Troi, ship's counselor and currently the commanding officer aboard the U.S.S. _Titan," said the voice of the former counselor of the _Enterprise._ The half-Betazoid woman sounded rather distressed and shaken. The transmissions itself was very garbled, the probe had apparently passed through a region filled with interference, which had disrupted the quality of the recording. "_Coinciding with the bombing at the Romulan Senate_," she began again, "_The _Titan _was attacked by what appeared to be at least two ships of similar class to the _Scimitar_, the ship which Shinzon was planning to use on Earth with its thalaron weapon_." Picard grimaced at the mention of that event. "_So far, our sensor logs are inconclusive on whether these vessels are armed with thalaron weapons, but it is, without a doubt, a possibility. Currently we are adrift with no communications, no weapons, and no propulsion. _

_"We were forced to create this makeshift radio transmitter and attach it to a probe, for it was the only possible way we had to send a distress call. _

_"We're currently hanging in a polar orbit of Romulus, using what little propulsion power we had left to get there. We hope to use the planet's magnetic field to mask ourselves from any further attack. Yes, it was dangerous of us to send this message, considering it might be intercepted, but we used the last of our resources to fool sensors into believing it to be a stray meteor._

_"We hope you receive this, Starfleet, and send a rescue operation as soon as possible. Troi out_."

Picard sighed. It seemed to him that without a doubt, all hope for peace with the Romulans was gone. _And things were going _so well_ too_, he thought to himself.

Among the things that he wanted most to happen in the galaxy, it was to see a lasting peace with the Romulan Empire begin in his lifetime. And just as it finally seemed that his hope would be fulfilled, this happened. It wasn't as though Picard wasn't used to dreams being crushed. He'd always hoped to see his nephew, Rene, graduate from Starfleet Academy and become a full-blown captain. He knew, however, that could never happen, for the boy had burned to death along with his father in their own home.

The closest he'd come to seeing another Picard enter Starfleet was his sister-in-law's niece, Amarante Lebel, at her graduation. He had become quite fond of his niece, if one could really call her _his_ niece, but he loved her as one anyway. She was a bright young woman, and had been promoted to Lieutenant Junior Grade after her service on Earth in San Francisco with the rebuilding after the Breen attack. But over his several years of correspondence with the girl, he'd grown quite fond her.

But now was not the time to be thinking of family. Now was a time for action. "How long until we reach Romulus?" Picard asked as he turned away from the console where he had been listening to the message. He made a beeline for the command chair, where he promptly seated himself, and proceed to give his uniform a slight tug.

Ensign Ch'Serikth swiveled in the chair at ops towards Picard. "Fifteen standard minutes, sir," the Andorian coolly informed him.

Shon's antennae betrayed his supposed calm demeanor, and Picard had noticed. The ensign was anxious. His antennae bent backwards, indicating an urgency that he was trying to hide.

Picard was glad that his officers were at least _trying_ to hide their fears, though the tension on the bridge seemed strike like a bolt of lightning. He took note of Counselor Laurence, who sat to his left. She had her eyes buried in her hand, her arm propped up on the armrest of her chair. He had no doubt that she could feel, and hear, the fearful thoughts of his bridge crew.

If there was one reason Picard was glad he was not a Betazoid, then it was because he didn't have to have unwelcome thoughts of fear and loathing being broadcast into his mind. He turned to Laurence. "Counselor," he began, "If you feel unable to be on the bridge at this time, feel free to return to your quarters."

The young, blonde-haired Betazoid woman looked up from her hand. A single tear dotted her cheek and a look of distress on her face. She quickly took a deep breath and regained her composure.

"No, sir," she said with a slight crack in her voice, "I'm alright. It's just-"

Picard got up, walked to the young woman and placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder, "What is it?" he asked quietly.

"I can feel the emotions emanating from the Romulans already," she said, staring up at him somewhat like a small child who had just been scathed from playing too roughly. "There's a lot of fear and a lot of rage."

Picard could do nothing but feel sorry for the young woman. Counselor Troi had always had an easier time dealing with her empathic abilities because, being as she was half human, they were not as powerful as most Betazoids' abilities.

"How about you go to sickbay and have Dr. Neilson give you a sedative?" Picard asked kindly.

She shook her head, "I'll be fine," she said softly, adding a "Sir" when she realized she hadn't.

"Counselor," he said sternly, but quietly, "You're obviously in distress. Don't make me order you off the bridge."

The young woman nodded her head and slowly stood up, giving Picard time to back away so that she didn't thrust herself upon him. She then turned in a painstakingly slow manner and headed for the nearest turbolift.

Once again, Picard reiterated to himself why he was glad that he wasn't a Betazoid.

Perhaps it was Picard's general concern for the well being of his crew, especially his bridge officers, but he found it somewhat unsettling that the Counselor felt the empathically sent emotions so strongly. Counselor Troi had had similar experiences, but never from the distance that Counselor Laurence was being subjected to them from.

Picard merely contemplated as the point of light on the view screen that was Romulus slowly came into view.

As the _Enterprise_ approached the Romulan capital world, Commander Martin Madden knew the captain wouldn't settle for being left on the bridge. In all likelihood, Captain Picard would feel the need to lead an away team to the Romulan Senate Building himself, leaving Madden in charge of the ship. Not that that scenario was necessarily a bad thing, the commander mused, but for some reason, he didn't feel good about it. As though if the captain _did_ lead the away team, something bad...no, not bad... something _catastrophic_ would happen.

He shook the feeling away. Never before had his premonition-like feelings ever come true, and, while he saw the obvious risks to _anyone_ who went down to the surface, he knew nothing could keep the captain away.

But another option came to mind, the captain would also want to make contact with the _Titan_, likely before ever making a relief effort and investigation.

Madden analyzed the situations. His chin buried deep in his hand and his elbow propped on his armrest, supporting the weight of his upper body. A slight perspiration started to gleam on his forehead out of nervousness. This was, without a doubt, the tensest situation he'd ever been in, at least, as a commanding officer.

Not since the war, serving aboard the _Talos_, had he felt this much tension aboard a starship.

He darted his eyes about the bridge, checking the faces of all the officers. Captain Picard was intently staring at the viewer, as if it had taken something from him and the only way he could get it back was to stare it at for so long that it finally gave up.

Counselor Laurence had been excused from bridge by the captain, so the other command chair sat empty. Madden couldn't see the faces of Lieutenants Reeves and ch'Serikth, but he could at least guess the Andorian's mood. It hadn't been since the _Enterprise_'s trip to Palami space two months ago, to talk negotiations for removing the quarantine on the Palami system, that ch'Serikth's antennae had been positioned the way they were; almost straight upright, though slightly bent backward at the top. So Madden could only make the same conclusion he had made three months before; that ch'Serikth felt a certain anger toward the situation. It was a well-known fact that the Andorians were particularly against allowing the Palami outside of the quarantine. Decades before, the peaceful race accidentally released a disease into the Federation trade routes, which effectively spread onto many Federation worlds. Andor had received the worst of it, being as they're physiology had led them to being more susceptible to the pathogen. Because of the incident, the Andorians wanted to completely annihilate the Palami race, ensuring that no more accidents ever occurred.

It was well known, as well, that the incident was truly an accident on the Palami's part and also that Andorians were an inheritantly violent race.

Andor was still feeling the effects of the Palami disease, however. Because of the amount of casualties, mostly caused by a violent rage that was a symptom of the disease, Andor's already complex mating crisis was made worse. It left many Andorian bonds broken and prevented them from creating children. Today's generation of Andorian grandparents were the children still left in the ashes of the incident.

Of course, the reasoning for the Andorian hatred of the Palami wasn't as well known as the fact that they were angry beyond belief. Madden had gained the full story from his friend from the Academy, an Andorian by the name of Kitrithas th'Zine. Madden let a small smile twinge at his lips at the thought of Kitri. A few memories came rushing in of loosing miserably in a game of Damjot to Kitri, which led to a small escapade involving a Tarkalian fruit bat and a few firecrackers, but those were thoughts for another time.

As Madden recollected his thoughts so he could better prepare for the mission, Captain Picard broke the silence on the bridge.

"Commander Madden," he said, swiveling in the command chair so he could look directly at Madden, "You will lead an away team to the _Titan_ to as we assess the situation on the planet. I want a small contingent of engineers to go and assist in repairs so that the _Titan _can get back to Federation space. Don't use the transporter, take the high-warp runabout that B-9 took from the Daystrom Institute. Once sufficient repairs are done, come back to the ship. Deanna is well capable of commanding the ship back to our territory."

Madden nodded to the captain and began looking up an engineering roster to see who to take with him when a small klaxon went off at the communications station. The officer on duty, Ensign Waychek, turned to her commanding officers. "Sir, we're being hailed by a Romulan warbird, the _Valdore_."

Madden noticed Picard smile at the mention of the ship. "Put it through," the captain ordered.

On the viewscreen, a young, attractive Romulan woman appeared. "Captain Picard, a pleasure to see you again," she said.

"The pleasure is all mine," Picard replied with a smirk. However, the smirk was replaced with an urgency. "Commander Donatra, can you tell us what's happened?"

Madden noticed a grimness take over the Romulan's appearance. "The Senate was bombed by an unknown faction. I'm inclined to believe it's a part of the military that wasn't ready for peace. We've already done a detailed scan of the site, there are traces of tri-cobalt explosives. As you know, we Romulans are among the few that use such devices."

Picard nodded slowly. "Would you and some of your people like to accompany myself and an away team to the surface? We have missing people down there and would like to mount a search."

Donatra cocked her head slightly to the side and then nodded. "Yes captain, though so far we have detected no life signs in the area. We believe all the survivors have been removed by whoever planted the bomb."

Madden suddenly wondered how they could have been taken so quickly. "Commander," he interjected, "Where were you at the time of the bombing?"

Donatra seemed puzzled by his question. "Conducting training exercises outside of the system. We heard of the explosion and of the skirmish in orbit between the _Titan_ and two unidentified ships. When we got here, however, whoever was behind all this seemed to have covered up their tracks and destroyed the _Titan_."

Picard laughed, "Deanna's trick worked."

Donatra raised an eyebrow.

Picard recomposed himself and explained that the _Titan_ had hid itself above one of Romulus's poles.

The Romulan commander appeared slightly embarrassed, "We didn't think to do that intensive a scan."

"If you wouldn't mind," Picard began, "Contact the _Titan_ and tell them we'll be arriving in, oh, seven minutes to assist them."

Donatra smiled, "We do more than that. We'll send them some help as well."

"Once again, you're presence is a blessing, Commander Donatra," Picard said, returning the smile.

"See you in a few minutes, Captain," Donatra said, "_Valdore_ out." The screen reverted back to quickly approaching Romulan system. Madden could see two points of light that he quickly identified as Romulus and Remus.


	7. Chapter Six

Author's Note: Star Trek is owned by Paramount, not me, all that stuff, yeah, yeah. I guess there's not many references to site in this. I didn't make a lot of allusions to books in this chapter. Temecklia, however, was found with the use of Star Trek: Star Charts. And I apologize for the long delay. I've had _a lot_ of computer troubles lately. I hope this chapter makes up for it.   
  
Chapter Six 

Lieutenant Junior Grade David Reeves was appalled at the carnage he witnessed as he arrived on the _Titan_'s bridge.

Medical personnel were clearing out the last of the injured as he turned slowly about, absorbing the destruction that had occurred. The technicians, both Starfleet and Romulan, that he had accompanied to the bridge were already going about, assisting with repairs, trying to get the battle torn vessel back on her feet.

The fact that _Titan_ was a _Sovereign_-class vessel, with an interior almost identical to that of the _Enterprise_, made the sight all the more eerie. He walked slowly toward the helm controls, examining the blown apart display and running his hand along the headrest of the crimson stained chair behind it. For all he knew, it could have been him sitting at the blood-splattered station.

When he realized he was starting to sweat with anxiety, Reeves removed himself from the disturbing thoughts and began assessing how his engineering skills could be of help. His thoughts were jumbled, however, for the image of the deep red spots on the helm station's chair was imbedded deep in his mind.

Just like the battle at Temecklia, twelve years ago, he thought to himself. 

Temecklia had been where Reeves' life changed forever. His father, Ian Michael Reeves, had been the navigator and helmsman aboard the smuggler ship, _Wasp_. David, not content with staying home in Milton Keynes, England, tagged along with his father when he reached the age of sixteen, despite his father's objections. The crew of the _Wasp_ found David's technical skills quite useful. He'd spent his childhood working with his father on antique vehicles from the twentieth, twenty-first, and twenty-second centuries. He took quickly to assisting the _Wasp_'s engineer and quickly became the crew's mascot.

His father was displeased with the fact that David was onboard. Ian had always worried about his son's welfare and knew that a smuggler ship was no place for a teenager, David had only wished he'd known that himself. Ian had wanted his son to join Starfleet, just as he had wanted to. But Ian, after being denied entry into Starfleet academy seven times, resigned to make a life as a mechanic and interplanetary transport pilot in England. But when the opportunity to become a space-farer arose, he knew he could no longer stay home. It was a year later that David joined him.

And it was another year and a half after that that David suffered for that decision.

While smuggling a shipment of Tzenkethi fire spice, the _Wasp _was attacked by a Ferengi Marauder, trying to get its hands on the shipment. After sustaining a hit, David, being on the bridge in an attempt to keep the stations together, witnessed his father's console exploded before him, sending hot shrapnel into his father's chest. Death was immediate for Ian Reeves as he was blasted away and landed with a heavy thud on the deck.

David, having watched his father in action on several occasions, took the auxiliary console, redirected helm control, and guided the ship to safety above Temecklia II's southern magnetic pole. The Ferengi eventually gave up pursuit.

It was after that battle that David vowed he would fulfill his father's dream and join Starfleet. He spent his first three years majoring in engineering, thinking that he should go with what he knew he was good at. But after a while, and several encounters with Starfleet security due to his past, Reeves was determined to follow his father's footsteps and become a pilot. And he was gratified to know he was a damned good one too. He'd gotten out of the academy just in time to participate in the war and served his home planet. He was twenty-eight now and knew that Starfleet was his future.

But, now was a time to use those three years of engineering courses to help with the _Titan_. He drew several deep breaths, returned to the bloodied console, slipped underneath, grabbed a spanner and went to work.

V V

Captain's Log, Supplemental; Stardate 57566.6: The Enterprise, along with the aid of the Romulan warbird, Valdore, has begun assisting the Titan in repairs. Communications going to, from, and amongst the Romulan Empire appear to be non-existent. It would seem that whoever bombed the Senate also wiped out the Romulan communications network. The Valdore has also been unable to contact anyone within the Romulan Empire. No ship or planet has responded to any hails. For that matter, there don't seem to be any Romulan ships near Romulus besides the Valdore. 

_Something is very wrong here. I have a sinking feeling that the _Enterprise_ and the _Titan _are about to get caught up in the beginning of a Romulan civil war. I just hope that my gut is giving me misinformation. _

_Commander Donatra and I will shortly be leading a joint away team to the planet to gather information at the site of the Senate bombing. Perhaps we can find some leads._

Jean-Luc Picard rose from behind the desk in his ready room. He gave his uniform a quick tug around the waste and then made for the door. As soon as the door rushed open as he approached, he found Commander Worf, who was currently the command officer on the bridge. He had a favor to ask of the Klingon.

"Captain," Worf said curtly, "Permission to accompany you to the surface."

"Granted," Picard said with a brief smile, realizing Worf was thinking on the exact same lines that he was, "I swear; I'm beginning to think more and more that Klingons are telepaths."

Picard then proceeded to tap his commbadge. "Picard to La Forge," he said in his baritone-bass voice, "Report to transporter room two. Commander Worf and I require your assistance on the planet."

"On my way, sir," energetically responded La Forge.

Picard looked about at who was still left on the bridge. He suddenly found himself perplexed as to who to leave in command. Geordi and Worf were accompanying him to the surface. Commander Madden had gone to the _Titan_ along with Lieutenants ch'Serikth and Reeves. All that was left of the senior and junior officers were Counselor Laurence and Doctor Neilson, neither of which had command training. Suddenly the turbolift door opened before him and Worf, just as he was considering changing his mind about Worf coming along, showing that his dilemma was solved.

"Captain," said the soft accented voice of a very tired looking Deanna Troi, "It's good to see you."

"It's wonderful to see you as well, Deanna." He noticed Worf give a sharp nod to his one-time lover. "But Commander Worf and I must be going. Would you care to take the conn?"

Despite the lines of exhaustion on her face, Deanna managed a faint smile, "I'd love to."

"Then settle in, Commander Troi," Picard said with a smile, waving his hand in the direction of the command chair. "The new chair they gave me is quite nice. It even has seatbelts, just in case."

"Thank you, Captain," Deanna responded with a wary smile. Picard turned on his heels and stepped into the turbolift. Worf had already entered and was holding the door open for him. Just as the doors began to close, a thought occurred to him. "Oh, and Commander," he said loudly and with a smile, "Try not to crash the ship while we're gone."

V V

Worf, son of Mogh, of the House of Martok, and former Federation ambassador to the Klingon Empire, blinked a few times under the Romulan sun. Of all the planets he never thought he'd stand on in his life, Romulus was at the top of the list.

He looked down to the ground, allowing his eyes readjust to a little less direct sunlight and sifted through the rubble of the Romulan Senate building. In all the scans he had conducted with the tricorder that clung to his belt, he had found no traces of life. Nor was there any evidence of the remains of Captain Riker or Ambassador Spock. Whoever had taken them did not want there to be anyone left to tell what happened

Sweat beaded down the ridges that adorned his forehead. If there was one thing he could say that surprised him about the Romulan homeworld, was that it was unusually humid.

He grunted to himself in amusement. _Makes sense_, Worf thought, _Their cold blood keeps them from overheating_.

Whatever was left of the provisional government had already been in the area for several hours. Members of the military already planetside were standing guard about the ruins of the Senate building, keeping the investigators safe from any potential attacks. No one on the planet seemed to really know what was going, a situation that Worf did not particularly care for.

Apparently, as the bomb went off, all communication in the entire Romulan Empire ceased to be. It was obvious that the attack was widely coordinated. His, as well as the captain's and Geordi's, suspicions all pointed towards remnants of the military, who did not care for this regime's peaceful ways. Certainly the details of it fit; the tri-cobalt explosive, the communications outage, the lack of military aid coming into the system.

Worf was just brushing away some dust from his thighs when he saw Commander Geordi La Forge rise from where he had previously been examining some rubble.

"Captain?" he called, getting Jean-Luc Picard's attention. The captain had been having a quiet conversation with Commander Donatra, no doubt discussing possible theories on the attack. Picard looked in the engineer's direction.

"What is it, Geordi?" Picard asked with a touch of concern as he made his way to where La Forge was standing.

"I'm not quite sure," La Forge began, "You might want to scan this with your tricorder." He pointed a finger lightly at the ground beneath him.

Picard nodded and unsheathed the scanning device, gently waving it above the ground. In reality, no such motion was needed for the tricorder to scan such a small area, but the motion seemed to be something that came as habit to every Starfleet officer to use one.

Picard frowned and he read the results, "Some kind of bio-energy?" he asked.

Geordi began to speak up, "I noticed these residual energy readings when we arrived, but I figured it was just an organic energy discharge. I generally pick it up from cellular respiration or the body's own magnetic field. I figured it was just the leftovers of one of the rescue team members. But now that I really look at it, there's more to it than that. I think this _might_ be residual energy left from a transporter. It has a few similar qualities. I'd never have noticed it for the fact that it's degradation rate is so slow."

"A transporter?" Worf scoffed. "What kind of transporter can leave an organic energy trail?"

"None that we know of," Geordi responded. "I wouldn't be surprised if this is a toy developed by the Tal Shiar." At the mentioning of the dreaded Romulan intelligence organization, several of the guards noticeably flinched, obviously not wanting to think of it. "But it isn't really organic energy traces. I've taken a closer look at it, it's definitely not bio-energy, but transporter energy so finely tuned that you'd think that it was just the effect of someone walking by. The problem is that it doesn't dissipate nearly as fast as true bio-energy would."

"Can we use this to track where Captain Riker and the others were taken?" Picard asked.

Geordi shrugged, "I'm not entirely sure. It'd be like looking for one blue dot among a billion black dots. And it would have to be if they beamed somewhere on Romulus. Remus may have been a destination as well. But because of the way the energy picks up on sensors as a bio-signature, it would be incredibly difficult to find among the signatures left by every organism on the planet. But if I did narrow enough parameters and found one facet of the energy that was discernable from normal bio-energy, then I could do it after reconfiguring the sensors a bit."

"How long would this take?" Commander Donatra interjected. Worf hadn't noticed her approach.

"With the _Enterprise_'s sensors alone? I'd say a day, if we did just Romulus, over the entire planet," Geordi responded.

Donatra nodded and considered matters for a moment, "I'll have some of my people assist you in researching this energy. And once a way of detecting it is found, we'll coordinate with you to lessen the search time."

Picard gave a faint smile and nodded to the Romulan woman, "Thank you, Commander."

"My pleasure, Captain," Donatra said with a smile. She then turned, pulled out a communicator to issue some orders, and walked away, her hips waving gently from side to side as she did.

Worf may have despised Romulans as a whole, but he had to admit that their women weren't bad.

V V

_Romulan women are worse than I thought_, Lieutenant David Reeves moaned to himself. A rather unattractive Romulan engineer, in both looks and aromas, had made herself available to help him work on the _Titan_'s broken conn station.

She had unkempt brunette/black hair, squinty eyes and rather large bucked-teeth. It was the most surprising thing, the bucked teeth. Reeves had always seen Romulans with perfectly healthy looking, and even, teeth. But this woman, her teeth would have given a beaver a fright. The woman was being openly flirtatious with him, coming on like a vampire bat. He made his best efforts not to stare at the pearly monsters that were attached to her top jaw, so he simple kept his eyes on his hands and what he was doing at all times.

The smell she gave off wasn't exactly pleasant either. If he had to put a name on it, it was a mix between his first attempts at cooking (which drove him to becoming a replicator-holic) and a skunk. He could only guess it was some kind of wretched Romulan perfume.

Reeves found it disconcerting that all the other Romulans onboard were giving this own, Kalata, he believed her name was, a _very_ wide berth.

She scooted closer to him as he lie on his back, working underneath the station. "Anything I can get you?" she asked a somewhat throaty voice.

"Oh, no," Reeves said, his light British accent cracking a bit as he tried to make himself sound cheery, "Nothing at all. In fact, I doubt I'll be requiring any help with this."

Kalata gave a slight harrumph, "Alright Lieutenant, if you won't be needing me," she began as she stood up, "I'll see if I can't be of use elsewhere."

"Thank you," he said politely as she left. He briefly stopped his work and let out a sigh of relief as the turbolift doors closed behind her.

A rather thin Romulan male then approached him, having seen Kalata leave, and crouched down next to the smashed console.

"I see you've met Kalata," the Romulan said with a smirk.

"Indeed," Reeves replied.

"I pity you," the Romulan said with a small amount of genuine sadness.

"Why?" Reeves asked with a slight degree of concern.

"Kalata... She is a _Ningeytu_. In Romulan it means "She who is a curse upon men".

"I don't follow you," Reeves stated.

"She is what you would call a," he trailed off, searching for the words, "a 'bad omen'."

"How so?" Reeves asked, raising his eyebrows in surprise and alarm.

"She doesn't always seem to realize this, but every man she becomes 'flirtatious' with doesn't seem to live too long afterwards."

"Oh."

"Best of luck to you, friend," said the Romulan and then he moved on.

_I have a bad feeling about this_, Reeves thought to himself.

V V

"I have a bad feeling about this," stated Commander Donatra after the away team materialized in a dark corridor. The day required for finding the strange transporter signal had passed, and it was pinpointed to the control complex of an abandoned mine in one of Remus' southern continents.

Geordi La Forge could only agree. He was practically blind in the hallway, even with the ocular implants. It was cold, and there was very little residual heat left in the hall, so the thermal detection of his implants was not entirely useful. He could still see traces of heat, and wherever the transporter was, he could probably find heat left from the machinery. But for now, we would have to rely on his friends to guide him to wherever in the complex that was.

He could hear Worf checking his tricorder beside him, "The source is in a room to the right, about fifty meters from here."

Geordi strained his ears to listen to his surroundings. It was quiet except for the clatter of footfalls and the gentle beeps of their equipment. He could tell the identity of each one of them by the sound. Picard walked with a light stride, and he walked to Geordi's left, with a hand resting on the blind man's shoulder. Worf was to the right of him. There was a strong deliberate step emanating from the Klingon. And he automatically knew the one unrecognizable stride in the group was Donatra. Though in reality, he could see them perfectly because their bodies gave off heat, but they were slightly distorted due to Starfleet issue jackets they were wearing to shield themselves from the cold of the Reman underground.

Suddenly, Picard's arm shot up and hit his chest, the sound of a comm. badge clicked, "Picard to Enterprise," Geordi heard Picard say.

"_Madden here_," responded the voice of Martin Madden, who had returned to the _Enterprise_ after repairs on the _Titan_ were sufficiently completed.

"Commander, keep a constant transporter lock and an open channel with the away team. Be ready for possible data downloads or emergencies," ordered the captain.

"_Yes, sir_," replied Commander Madden.

"Picard out."

_Oh, he's pissed_, Geordi thought about Madden. The first officer was a fairly by the book guy, but wasn't afraid to take risks. He had wanted to lead the away team, but Picard insisted on going himself. Somehow he could just tell that Madden was unhappy.

He mused on these thoughts for a few moments until he could finally make out the heat traces from computer consoles on the other side of the wall. He figured they'd reached what they were looking for, the transporter pad that had been used to snatch away the Federation delegates and/or any information that may lead to where they were.

His suspicion was confirmed by the sound of Worf snapping his tricorder back into his belt loop. "Through this door," the surly Klingon stated in a bass grumble. Geordi looked, a small pad that was fixed onto the door gave off low amounts of heat.

"This is an old mine," Commander Donatra said, Geordi could tell she had fallen behind the group from the direction of the sound of her voice, but he hadn't noticed her falling back. "Perhaps some of my access codes can open this door panel."

Picard nodded, "Be our guest, Commander."

Donatra punched in a few codes and the door opened with a slight moan.

He immediately made way for one of the consoles in the room, but he could already see a problem, "Someone's smashed it up pretty good," he said.

"Indeed," Picard replied, "Someone smashed everything in the room." He then made a gesture, "I believe that may be our mysterious transporter in the corner. Or at least, what's left of it."

Geordi sighed as he saw that, like everything else, it was smashed to hell as well. He looked around at the various consoles in the room. "Maybe we can salvage a hard drive from one of these."

"Make it so," ordered Picard with a slight nod.

Geordi immediately grabbed his toolkit and began the process of extracting the core from the console. After much toiling and several minutes work, Geordi extracted the newly freed core and handed it to Commander Donatra who was crouching next to him.

And suddenly hell broke loose. Alarms began to sound and defense systems came online. Several small disrupter turrets shot out from the floor and took aim at the away team.

V V

"Beam them up, beam them up!" shouted Martin Madden. Klaxons on the bridge were sounding as an emergency was detected on the planet.

"We're having trouble getting a lock, sir," replied a frantic Therashon ch'Serikth.

"Get them!" Martin ordered again.

"We've got one," said ch'Serikth. "It's Commander Donatra!"

"Well get the rest of them!" shouted Madden in a near frenzy stage.

"I," began Shon with a stutter, "I can't! A shield has come up! We can't lock on!"

"Damn!" exclaimed Madden, pounding his fist into the armrest of the command chair.

Then suddenly, another, more ominous klaxon went off. Crewman were running about the bridge, trying to get things in order. Madden blocked them from his mind and kept all his thoughts on the viewscreen and what Shon was telling him from the sensors.

"Sir! Another ship coming in!" exclaimed Shon.

"Let's see it!" Madden stood up, but quickly found himself back in his seat after seeing what he saw. A Reman warbird. "Not good," he whispered to himself, "This is not good."

"Sir, the shield is dropping from the complex," said Shon in a rushed manner.

"Beam them out!" Madden ordered.

Shon's hands flew over the console in a blazingly fast pace, but as a small klaxon went off on his console, he pounded his fist onto the side. "The warbird's got them."

Suddenly the ship disappeared off the screen.

"They're cloaked," Shon stated in exasperation.

"I can see that Lieutenant. Or rather, don't see," Madden muttered. "Any way of tracking her? Didn't Commander La Forge find Shinzon's warbird by scanning for thalaron radiation?"

Shon nodded, but looked at the commander forlornly, "I've already scanned for that. I don't think this warbird carries a thalaron weapon."

"So we're screwed?" Reeves asked from the conn console. Madden had forgot the helmsman was even there because of his focus on the situation.

Shon nodded again, grimly. "Essentially."

"Fantastic," said Madden.

"Perhaps not entirely," said the voice of Commander Donatra from in front of a closing turbolift door. She was clutching a piece of metal in her hands. Madden recognized it immediately as a computer core. "This might be of help."


	8. Chapter Seven

Author's Note: I'm really, really sorry about the long delay. I've had a lot of computer trouble and a very busy work schedule because of the holidays. Everything is returning to normal though, so hopefully I'll be able to get new chapters up more regularly. Normal disclaimer stuff: Star Trek belongs to Paramount. The story is based on ideas from John Logan's script for _Star Trek: Nemesis_. And a lot of the back-story comes from various Trek novels. I think the only book reference in this chapter is that of the _I.K.S. Gorkon_ from the series of books by the same name by Keith R. A. DeCandido. There may be references to the _A Time To…_series, but I'm not sure. It's been off and on writing for this chapter. Well, enjoy.   
Chapter Seven 

Captain Jean-Luc Picard paced about the cell he had been placed in by his captors. The guard, who had tightly gripped his arm and led him from the transporter room he had materialized on to the brig in which he now found himself, had certainly answered a few questions. He was clad in the uniform of the Romulan military's Fifth Legion. _Tomalak's legion_, Picard reminded himself. More recent Starfleet intelligence had stated that Tomalak had risen in rank since Picard's last encounter with him to the command of one of the Romulan military's fleets.

Now Picard knew for sure that it was a military _coup_ that was causing all the havoc in Romulan space. Just how large this movement was, he still couldn't guess. And Tomalak, Picard reminded himself, may not have been the one behind it. Tomalak was a man more likely to follow than to lead, so Picard found it more likely that there were others.

While Picard was boiling the details in his head, a faint tapping sound from the other side of the right wall stopped him. He listened intently, for a sound like that wasn't normal for a starship. After a few brief seconds, he instantly recognized a pattern. He quickly checked to see if a guard was paying attention and found none in his field of vision from behind the brig's forcefield. Long-short-long-short. C. It was old Morse code. Another letter began. Short-long-long-short. P. Long. T. Short-short-long-long-short-short. A query.

_CPT?_ Picard mulled over in his mind. He instantly realized that whoever was in the adjacent cell was check on him.

Picard brought his fist up to the wall to reply. Short-long. Long-short-long-long. Short. "A-Y-E."

More code came. "T-O-M-A-L-A-K-?"

"A-Y-E," Picard responded.

"S-H-I-T."

Picard chuckled a bit. _My sentiments exactly_, he thought to himself. "W-H-O-I-S-T-H-I-S-?" he inquired in the ancient Earth code.

"R-I-K-E-R," said the response.

Picard began tapping a message of relief when a guard final noticed the activities in the cells. The Romulan briskly strode in front of Picard's forcefield, disrupter in hand. "Keep it down," he ordered sternly.

"Sorry," Picard said dryly, "It won't happen again."

"Good," said the guard as he walked away to his spot he had been before.

Picard breathed a sigh of relief. Captain William Riker was alive. Deanna would be relieved, that is, if they all got out alive.

A thought occurred to Picard. He tapped the wall lightly, resuming the old code.

"S-P-O-C-K-?" he asked.

"F-I-N-E," Riker replied.

Picard let out another sigh of relief. He then stepped away from the wall and headed for a bunk. Wherever this ship was going, he probably had plenty of time to kill. _Might as well sleep_, he thought.

V V V

Commander Martin Madden of the _Enterprise_ felt sorry for Commander Deanna Troi of the _Titan_, but he knew what had to be done. The half-Betazoid woman frowned at him with her dark eyes through the viewscreen in the captain's ready room.

"I'm sorry, Commander," Madden began again, "But with the current state of the _Titan_, she's really not going to be much good to us out here. Since you have warp back online, I believe your best course of action would be to turn around and head for the nearest starbase."

"But with the _Titan_ assisting you, the search would be much easier. What if the information obtained from the computer core proves false?" Troi asked. She did have a good point, Madden had to hand that much to her.

He quickly searched his mind for the appropriate answer, "In that case, Commander Donatra has offered the services of the _Valdore_." He sighed through his nose and shut his eyes for a few seconds, rubbing over his eyelids with his index finger and thumb. He was clearly tired, dark bags were forming under his eyes and he knew he'd have to get sleep soon. "Look, Commander," he began, "_Deanna_, it's just too great of a risk for the _Titan_ to remain out here. I don't want to see more innocent lives go to waste. Just get your ship and her crew to Federation space and get repairs."

Troi, who appeared just as fatigued as Madden was sure he looked, closed her eyes and lowered her head. Had this been a more ceremonial conversation, perhaps one that he would have at a funeral, Madden would have believed that Troi had just realized she'd lost something very important. She breathed in deeply and looked in Madden's eyes through the viewscreen. "Alright, Martin. We'll be heading out to the Neutral Zone soon then," she said in a very professional tone. "Is there anything we can take back for you? A message? Wounded?"

Madden nodded, "If you wouldn't mind filing a detailed report of all the events as of so far."

"Of course," Deanna said with a faint smile.

A thought occurred to him, "Oh yes, one more thing," he said.

"Yes?" Deanna asked with a bit of intrigue.

"I'd like to transfer B-9 to your care, along with our wounded and the warp shuttle. He's currently undergoing a, uh, change, and I'm sure it'd be better if he's put under the care of the Daystrom Institute again," Madden informed her.

Deanna nodded in agreement, "Sure thing. We'll get B-9 and that high warp shuttle back to DITL soon."

"Thanks, Deanna," Madden said with the best smile he could muster, considering the circumstances. "Deanna," he began, "I'm sure Will is fine."

Deanna's faint smile returned, "Thank you, Martin. Troi out." Then the screen went black.

_I hope we find him_, Madden thought to himself before getting out from behind the desk and returning to the bridge. _And everyone else as well_.

V V V

Worf always hated the smell of Romulans, and their food even more. So when the guard near his cell in the brig thrusted some odd broth in his face, Worf's first instinct was to gag. He looked up at his guard and growled, "It smells like a rotting _targ_."

"Eat it willingly or you'll be forced," responded the surly Romulan. The Romulans then threw a spoon onto the floor, stepped back, and then activated the forcefield.

It reminded him of the Romulan camp in the Carraya sector where he had been led by the Yiridian information dealer, Jaglom Shrek, having been led by Shrek to believe that his father was alive and held captive by the Romulans.

Instead, Worf found that there were indeed survivors of the attack on Khitomer, but that his father had indeed been killed in the attack. At this camp, the Romulans under Commander Tokath had learned to live peaceably with their Klingon prisoners. Tokath himself married a Klingon woman and sired the beautiful Ba'el, whom Worf could not convice to come back with him. Others of the young Klingons had come back with him, however. In fact, his first "student" from the camp, Toq, was now the first officer of the _I.K.S. Gorkon_, under the command of Captain Klag, a long time friend of both Worf and Commander Riker.

Worf tried not to dwell on the taste of the broth as he gulped it down. Instead, he tried to calculate how long he'd been on the ship and where they could possibly be going. This, however, proved much too difficult. _If only Data were here_, Worf sighed to himself, _You wouldn't even have to ask him, he'd just randomly state how long you'd been doing something until you told him to shut up_.

Ever since the android's death, he had often found himself musing at the things he took for granted. Data's randomness was one thing about life aboard the _Enterprise_ that Worf had not missed all that much while he was at Deep Space Nine and ambassadorial duties on Qo'noS. Nevertheless, he had considered Data a true and trusted friend and a good man. But Worf's heart was joyful for him, for he knew the android was among the best of warriors in _Sto-vo-kor_. He was sure the android had a soul to go to the eternal battlegrounds of the honorable, for the android had such a will to live that we had to have had a soul.

He flashed a smile for his friend and continued eating the wretched soup.

V V V

Lieutenant, J.G., David Reeves found himself looking back over his shoulder every several seconds after his ominous warning from the Romulan engineer about the woman, Kalata, that he called a _ningeytu_; a curse upon men.

He knew that his actions were completely illogical. What could happen to him in a corridor of B-Deck on the _Enterprise_? Nothing.

So he feigned a state of perfect content and went his merry way toward a turbolift that would lead to his quarters, where he would wash up after a long day working on the _Titan_. The repairs on the ship had finished and she was now well on her way towards Federation space. Though her transceiver still wasn't working to well, which was a pain in Reeves side. He'd wanted to finish that part of the repairs before the ship left, but the damage was just too extensive. So the poor ship was running with nothing but short-range communications. But she was at least mobile and on her way to a starbase, while the _Enterprise_ was stuck in dangerous territory on a dangerous mission. But he could not shake the thought of that curse woman.

He passed a Bolian crewman, who looked at Reeves as if he was slightly insane. Paranoia gripped him once again and he endeavored to just hide his face so no one could see him. The helmsman picked up his pace so as to get to the 'lift quicker.

_What the hell is my problem?_ Reeves asked of himself. _I've never been superstitious like this before._

If Reeves has been home, in England, his mother would have told him he was a trifle short on the brain that day. She had no mind for superstition, and neither had his father. So, of course, Reeves had grown up a very reasonable man, and had never felt like the Boogie Man was out to get him. They would have called him crazy. And they would have been right.

However, all thoughts of home quickly left as the bulkhead directly in front and to right of him exploded in a brilliant flash of fire and shrapnel. One sharp section of debris missed his face by a mere few centimeters and lodged itself into the opposite bulkhead.

The red alert klaxons were blaring when the ringing in Reeves' ears finally stopped. They were under attack.

Reeves ran past the burning bulkhead towards the turbolift, intent on going to the bridge rather than his quarters. But as he turned in the 'lift and caught the last glimpses of the burning bulkhead and started to believe that maybe he wasn't crazy after all.


	9. Chapter Eight

**Author's Note: **Again, very sorry for taking so long. I've just been more and more busy and I finally founded the time to finish the chapter. This is a longer chapter, so I hope it tides you guys over until the next one. I am eager to get done with "In Search of Ashes" because I am planning a follow-up. Again, normal disclaimers, Star Trek owned by Paramount and stuff. Oh, and I've tried to fit in the Andorians of Enterprise (as witness on tonight's episode "The Aenar") with the Andorians of the books. Hope it's believable. Enjoy.

**Chapter Eight**

One hit from the cloaked vessel had effectively knocked out all of the _Enterprise_'s communication, much like the Romulans had done for the _Titan_ earlier. Another blast rocked the ship and most weapons were down. But as soon as Dr. Clint Tyler Neilson grabbed a hold of the biobed on which he was treating a patient with a fractured metacarpal, having been thrown off balance by the ship's sudden quaking, the attack had stopped.

The doctor, having been born and raised in Boston, being a seismically sound area, had never really gotten used to the feeling of the ground quaking beneath him. So every engagement on every ship he'd served on over the last half a century had left him with the same sudden fear that everything would collapse around him.

Not that such a concern were unfounded, he was one of the surviving crewmembers of the _Hood_, the ship with the highest casualty rate of any Starfleet ship during the Dominion War. He had seen so many bright, young faces fade away well before their time. He'd seen virile youths torn apart by Jem'Hadar polaron phasers, there remains sent home in body bags not even half the size of their actual bodies. He'd seen mangled, defiled corpses left scathed by Jem'Hadar blades. To think that the creatures couldn't even respect the Federation's dead enough to let them die in one peace horrified him.

The _Hood_ had engaged in nearly every decisive ship-to-ship battle of the war; no small feat for an old _Excelsior_-class starship. But the fact that he'd been among the few to survive had been a terrible burden. He was in his seventies and had a good fifty or sixty years before he had to go, but these young officers all had a good century ahead of them before they met their Maker. Just the numbers of dead was the worst thing about the war, but seeing how it broke so many people as well. On the _Hood_, he'd had a young doctor working under him, Kieth Hughes, who'd lost his wife and child due to the war. Hughes had resigned from Starfleet as soon as the war ended, but he at least went to a subsidiary of the Federation Red Cross to help people in need.

But Hughes was the classic case; a man who had had so much to live for and then lost it all. Neilson had nothing to lose but himself. Neilson's wife, Bethany, had been in Boston back on Earth through the war, which meant she was out of harm's way, save for the attack on San Francisco that was still across the continent from where she was. Beth was Neilson's one great love, and if he had lost her like Hughes lost his family, he likely would have done the same thing. The worst part of the man's ordeal was that the _Hood_ was in orbit of the planet where his wife and child were. His mother-in-law asked them to come and help her move to Terra Nova with them, well out of the frontline's reach. They had been unable to contact Hughes before leaving, and the frontlines hadn't reached that sector yet, so they went to help, thinking it would be safe to go there.

When the Dominion attacked, Neilson and Hughes set up a mobile triage in the capital city, less than two kilometers away from his mother-in-law's home, he wanted to go off to find her and bring her to safety when he couldn't find her on any refugee registries. He was tied up by treating the wounded and it was thirteen hours before Neilson got a chance to let Hughes take security detail to check on her. When he arrived, the Jem'Hadar had just attacked that section of town and he feared the worse for his wife's mother. When he got into the house, the sight of his wife lying on her back, clutching their child to his chest, greeted him. Both of them were dead. He had no idea they were on the planet.

Neilson felt a large degree of guilt for this event, for if he had allowed Hughes to leave even two hours earlier, he would have been able to save his family. But because of Neilson's drive to save those who could not be saved, he delayed too long and caused the deaths of at least three innocent lives. Who knows how many people Hughes would have brought back?

"Doctor?" asked the young crewman with the fractured metacarpal, "I think I may need to get to my post now, since we were just attacked and all."

Neilson snapped out of his brief lapse of attentiveness, finished up with the young man and began receiving several patients with mild injuries due to the attack.

V V V

Counselor Lukiana Laurence had no more than arrived at the turbolift to go to the bridge when the attack ended. Knowing that it was her duty to report to the bridge, she continued on when red alert was dropped down to yellow. The blaring klaxons had stopped and the ship had stilled, but she could still sense something out there, beyond the _Enterprise_.

_Amusement_, she thought to herself. Someone was toying with them.

She entered the 'lift and proceeded to the bridge, finding it a little smoked, but otherwise in normal condition. She noticed one of the science consoles in the back of the large ovular room had caught fire, causing minor burns to a young crewman on duty. She quickly found Commander Madden sitting in the command chair, going over a preliminary damage report. She took a deep breath, ignoring the agitated thoughts of the crewmen around her and tapped the commander on the shoulder. When the commander's eyes swung up to meet hers, she simply asked, "Can I speak with you in the ready room?"

Madden gave a quick, silent nod, seeing that something was bothering the full Betazoid woman and gave a gentle pat on her shoulder has they headed for the Captain's Fortress of Solitude, as some of the newer crewmembers such as herself had come to call the ready room.

She followed him into the office and took a seat in a guest chair in front of the desk. Madden didn't say a word until she had finished composing herself.

"What is it, Counselor?" he asked in a concerned tone.

"They're playing a game with us," Laurence informed him. "Distracting us."

"How so?" Madden asked.

"They're trying to keep us off their trail, I can feel it."

"The other ship? Are they trying to keep us from finding it? That _was_ only one of the Reman warbirds that just attacked us. We know there's another one out there."

Laurence nodded. "There's only one here. I can sense the animosity from whoever is on board."

"Then we have to find the other ship if we hope to find Captain Picard and the others…"

"Yes," Laurence said.

"All we can hope is that Shon and Commander Donatra can find out about where they might be going from that Tal Shiar computer core. That's the only good thing that seems to have come out of that little excursion to the base on Remus."

"Indeed," grimly replied Laurence.

V V V

Shon sighed. He and Commander Donatra had had plenty of time to work on the Tal Shiar computer core, seeing as the _Valdore_ and the _Enterprise_ had nowhere they could go until a lead was found to take them to wherever the ship that held Captain Picard, and Commanders Worf and La Forge was going. And since she had had more dealings with the Tal Shiar than any of the other crewmembers of the _Valdore_ were willing to admit to, she seemed the perfect candidate to assist the _Enterprise_'s operations/science officer.

It had been a tedious task; the Tal Shiar did not make it easy to infiltrate their computer systems. First they had to disarm an explosive hidden within the core. Then another safeguard had to be bypassed to keep the core from wiping its own memory. All that was left was breaking the entry code. And considering the complexity of the Romulan language, Shon was _very_ glad Donatra was there to assist.

First, the two had set up a program to randomly input any Romulan words that could be spelled with six characters, just as the entry code would have been. It had six slots, each could be filled with Romulan characters. That had proved in effective. So they told the computer to input any combination or words that, when put together became six characters.

The biggest problem was the size of the Romulan alphabet. There were five hundred and nine characters, which meant impossibly high amounts of combinations.

Shon sighed thoughtfully and reclined in his chair. He and the Romulan commander had been in the lab that Commander Data had often used for his own self-diagnostics, though most of his equipment had been removed by the Daystrom Institute for uses on Data's "brother" android, B-4. The fluorescent ambiance of the room reminded him slightly of the way the moon reflected off the ice caps of his home region of Andor, or Andoria as some called it. Over the last two centuries, Andor had gone into a period of global warning. Two hundred years ago, in the time of the founding of the Federation, it had been a world dominated by ice, now it was mostly archipelagoes with one main continent to the north. Andorian biology was adapting, but at a cost. It was causing their already complex mating cycle more so by making it harder to mate without finding genetic matches early in life.

The warming had also caused the off-world emigration of the few remaining Aenar, a blind, telepathic subspecies of the Andorians with white skin and penetrating, yet empty eyes. The "white-skins", as some still called them, had been in failing numbers two centuries before and were finally getting back on their feet. Oddly, the Aenar hadn't been as plagued with genetic problems as their cousins, the "blue-skins".

But breakthroughs were beginning. Thanks to the discovery of a moss that utilized four gametes on an Andorian subcontinent, methods of manipulating the Andorian reproduction system were being tested that extended the narrow period of fertility as well as made the system more productive, increasing the amount of children a bondgroup could sire.

"Thinking of home?" asked Donatra inquisitively, suddenly breaking Shon's wandering thoughts.

"What? Oh… Yes. Yes I was. I've not been to Andor for over a year. After this mission is over however, I will return. I must return," Shon said, somewhat distantly.

"Why?" Donatra asked with blazing curiosity. Shon was, quite frankly, surprised with how active the Romulan commanding officer was with her pursuit of knowledge from him. Shon wondered if perhaps he was too influenced by the general Federation stereotyping of Romulans as heartless conquerors.

He gave a brief description of his obligations to child rearing. He severely doubted that an off-worlder, let alone someone from outside the Federation, could truly grasp the importance of his return to Andor.

Donatra nodded slowly, clearly comprehending what little information Shon had divulged. He was considering going into detail when the program that was trying to break the Tal Shiar code suddenly alerted to a match.

"Have we broken the code this quickly?" Donatra asked.

Shon moved quickly to see what the display said. He allowed himself a brief smile of a complacent nature, something Andorians seldom did, and nodded. "I believe so."

Shon noticed Donatra lean in over his shoulder. She had an intriguing aroma about her that smelled faintly sweet. Her silver tunic rattled slightly as her brow furrowed, examining the results of the encryption breaker.

"Well, this must be the password, but I don't understand the wording behind it. It seems… well, like gibberish."

Shon nodded, "Most likely to help avoid cracking the code."

Donatra nodded in agreement, "Likely."

Shon suddenly found himself curious about something, "What exactly do the symbols mean?"

"They spell out to something… Well, I don't really know what it is," Donatra stated, obviously confused with the seeming randomness of it.

"What does it say?"

"_Na-da-sha Ya-re_," stated Donatra.

Shon suddenly realized something. He suddenly got up from his chair and headed for the door.

"Where are you going?" Donatra asked, generally puzzled.

"If I'm correct, we may have an idea of who's behind this," Shon stated with an air of confidence.

V V V

"Admiral Tomalak," Jean- Luc Picard stated with heavy sarcasm as he leaned away from his guard's grip, "How lovely to see you again under such pleasant circumstances."

After having been led out of his cell in the middle of what Picard viewed as night and forced to walk across the length of the mammoth of a ship that he was on, was both relieved to be out of his cell and to see a face that he could place blame on for everything that had happened in the last week.

Tomalak leaned forward, placed his hands on his desk and interwove his fingers in a thoughtful manner. The Romulan admiral's hair had grayed by several shades since Picard had last gone toe to toe with him. He also wore several large medals and insignias on his uniform to show his status has an Admiral and legion commander. Lines of worry and stress had formed over his brow and under his eyes, giving the middle aged Romulan an older appearance. Tomalak seemed to regard Picard with thoughtfulness, though it was obviously as sincere as Picard's greeting.

A mug filled with some form of hot liquid sat next to a stack of pads on his desk. Behind the admiral was a viewport with the large raptor emblem of the Romulan Empire. The stars streaked by as the warbird went at warp speeds.

"It's nice to see you as well, Picard," Tomalak said, adding with a sneer, "Especially under such _pleasant_ circumstances."

Picard took notice of a dark corner behind the admiral. It was heavily shadowed and he could tell that there was someone, fairly short in stature, standing, shrouded in the shadows. He returned his focus to Tomalak.

"What do you want from me, Tomalak?" Picard asked, cutting right to the chase.

"Oh, nothing more than your death, Picard. You and your friends in the brig." Tomalak's eyes widened as if he suddenly remembered something. "Ah, yes," he said, looking to the guard, "Send in the other prisoners as well, they should witness this as well."

The doors of the office slid open. Captain Riker, Ambassador Spock, Geordi La Forge, and Commander Worf, as well as several members of the Federation were led in by Romulan gaurds. Picard could see that none of them seemed to have been treated any worse than he had. Worf was obviously angry at being captured, but otherwise he was calm. La Forge simply stayed as cool and collect as he normal was.

Ambassador Spock was the first to speak. "It is but logical that you are involved in this, Tomalak. You always have been against peace."

The person in the shadows suddenly spoke, "You never did know when to shut up, did you, Vulcan?" It was a feminine voice, but strong, with excellent force to it.

Spock looked at the shrouded woman quizzically, "Quite the contrary, I know perfectly well when it is logical and advantageous to not speak. I simply do not view this moment as one of those times."

"Be quiet," said the woman in the shadows, forcefully, "You're just as annoying now as you were eight years ago."

Picard raised an eyebrow in a very Vulcan-like and looked at Spock. The ambassador glanced briefly in the captain's direction and nodded slightly.

"Then, Admiral Sela, I would just recommend that you don't listen to me."

The woman stepped into the shadows, revealing the face of former _Enterprise _security chief, Natasha "Tasha" Yar. It was Sela, of course, born from the time travel of a Tasha Yar from another reality. Picard knew it was a farfetched story, but he trusted Guinan, his long time friend, and her judgement when she first confirmed Sela's story.

She glared at Spock with sudden anger, "Just like a Vulcan." She then suddenly smiled slightly and shrugged. "It doesn't matter, you'll all soon be killed anyway. We won't have to deal with you much longer."


End file.
